


The Emeralds

by its_just_lori



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Apples because why not, Childhood Friends, Commoner Marinette, F/M, Fake King, Felix and Amelie are evil, French Monarchy, Imposter King, Mulan AU, Revolutionary Chat Noir, Royal Conspiracy, Royalty Adrien, Slow Burn, That's a theme now, War, best friends au, corrupt monarchy, fairy tale AU, kind of, no powers au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_just_lori/pseuds/its_just_lori
Summary: Marinette used to spend her days roaming the apple orchard with her best friend, Adrien, who also happened to be the Prince of France. After the Queen's assassination and Adrien's overtaking of the throne, the country crumbled to pieces. The people fell into poverty, and soon France was being ruled by a tyrant who turned a blind eye to the sufferings of his country. The only hope for them is the building revolution, lead by the notorious Chat Noir.She felt her heart stutter as she took him in. His blonde hair was styled neatly, no longer messy like his childhood self liked it. He looked much older; no longer did he have his round, youthful face. His cheekbones and jaw were carefully sculpted, but his features were still relatively familiar to her. She knew the moment she looked at those gorgeous emerald eyes of his, she’d finally break, but she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes locked onto his, and-Her heart completely stopped.Black eyes glanced lazily out the window, easily overlooking the one person that stared directly at him.If that's not-Then-Then who the hell is that?And where's Adrien?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe
Comments: 43
Kudos: 118





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ooo man am I excited. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for some time now, and I thought it was time I finally wrote it down.  
> Some background info: This takes place sometime in the 1700s? 1800s? A while ago. French Monarchy times. Kwamis don't exist, so I don't think Plagg and Tikki will make an appearance.  
> Please enjoy ;)

Marinette frowned as she looked over the latest policy sent out by the monarchy. New policies came as often as the newspaper nowadays, and she could confidently say every single one of them was complete bullshit. For example, their latest addition:

_To ensure the safety of the royal family, any and all members of the royal army have complete authority and dictation over the townspeople of Paris and shall be treated with nothing but respect by commoners. Anyone who refuses submission to the royal soldiers shall be punished accordingly._

She scoffed to herself and yelled over her shoulder, “Maman! A new policy came in.”

She heard her mother’s muffled voice come from the kitchen. “Don’t tell me they’ve extended curfew even more. At this rate, we might as well close the bakery.” Her mother joined her behind the counter.

“It’s worse.” She handed the paper over.

“Oh dear.” Her mother’s troubled look mirrored Marinette’s. 

They both knew exactly why this particular policy had been passed. For the first time throughout his reign, the King would be touring the city of Paris today. In the past, these tours were to help the monarch observe and understand the living conditions of the people and hear their requests for any reforms. It used to be a buzz of excitement when the monarch visited town. Now, everyone was scared.

It was mainly because the royal guard had gotten out of control. They were cruel to the people, and this policy was just adding fuel to their oppressive flame. The monarchy apparently wasn’t turning a blind eye anymore, instead, they were just making it legal. Justifiable. 

The monarchy had become untouchable when the King took the throne. Instead of the monarch being a servant to the people, they were all suffering in poverty, working to appease his ridiculous policies.

In the days leading up to his arrival here in town, all townspeople were notified of how the proceeding would go. The monarch would be brought through in a carriage, while the townspeople bowed down to him. They were not allowed to look at him, and anyone who failed to comply would be severely punished. Any crime in the presence of the King was magnified, so it was crucial that nobody stepped a toe out of line this afternoon.

Sabine reminded her daughter of this, especially since the soldiers could now do whatever they pleased if she even looked at them the wrong way.

“I know Maman.” Marinette dismissively waved her hand in her mother’s direction as she started wiping down the counter with a wet rag.

“Marinette, this is serious. There will be more soldiers in this area as the proceeding gets closer, and we’ll probably have some… unfriendly guests coming into the bakery.” Sabine grabbed her daughters hands and held them tight. “Please promise me that whatever happens, you’ll bite your tongue. Please, honey.” Marinette could see that her mother was begging her, and as much as it would pain her to let them walk all over her, she’d do anything if it meant it kept her and her family safe.

She gave her mom’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “I promise, Maman.”

* * *

Marinette inhaled the sweet scent of the apple orchard. She loved coming here, it was one of her favorite places to go when she was feeling stressed or just bored. She walked along the lines of small apple trees, not yet working to fill her basket, just appreciating its beauty. The orchard was one of the only places that hadn’t changed in the last ten years. Whenever she came here, she was reminded of a time when life was simple. She smiled sadly as she allowed herself to reminisce.

She could picture it clearly. Running along the small paths between the trees, giggling happily, glancing over her shoulder as _he_ ran behind her.

_What happened to him?_

She’d had that thought nearly every day for the past ten years. One moment, he was the sweet boy who wandered into the bakery, grasping his mother’s hand tightly, filled with curiosity about the world around him. The next…

What had turned her best friend into a ruthless tyrant?

She flinched every time someone said _King Adrien_. There was a time when he was _Prince Adrien_ to her, but soon after he became just _Adrien_. Her best friend Adrien. The silly boy who couldn’t get enough of the croissants her parents offered him, they boy who snuck out of the castle with his mom to come visit her without having to worry about bringing a royal guard.

Emilie was easily the best monarch France had ever seen, and that was really saying something. Some 100 years ago, the Emerald Dynasty began with Emilie’s great-grandfather. He had been born with startling green eyes, and the entire country adored him. He was kind, gentle, and valued the people much more than the monarchy. He passed his ideals, as well as his beautiful eye color, down to his son, who then passed them down to his son. A superstition began forming as France thrived under these green-eyed monarchs, nicknamed The Emeralds, and soon the people were convinced the reason their leaders were so exceptional was because of their emerald eyes.

Said superstition was reinforced even more when Emilie and her twin sister, Amelie, were born. Amelie had dark brown eyes, Emilie, emerald eyes. When the King died without a male heir, Emilie was put on the throne, no doubt because of superstition, and she became an incredible monarch.

Emilie raised Adrien not to believe in the superstition and emphasized that a truly great monarch has an undying love for their people. Marinette could tell, even at a young age, that Adrien whole-heartedly loved the people of France and wanted every excuse to walk among them. He’d inherited his mother’s beautiful eyes, but most importantly, he’d inherited her kind heart and free spirit.

_So what had happened to him?_

Marinette knew the answer to that question. She’d been there when his whole world had been destroyed right in front of him, but it still didn’t warrant the pain he was putting his people through. If only she could talk to him, try and awaken that young spirit in him again, but she knew any attempt on her part would be fruitless.

She hadn’t seen him since that fateful day ten years ago, and just thinking about being near him again this afternoon made her sick to her stomach. She was almost glad she wouldn’t be allowed to look at him, because if she actually _saw_ him again as the monster he’s become, she might actually be sick.

* * *

The bakery came into view as Marinette trudged up the shallow slope leading to her small neighborhood. She felt the wind pick up around her, and she wrapped her free arm around herself, the other carrying the basket of apples. As the path began to level out, she noticed that something was off. The merchants around her were all subdued and quiet, instead of the normal cheery greetings and pleasantries she was used to hearing. She opened her mouth to ask the nearest woman what was going on, but she was cut off by the sound of breaking glass.

The front window of the bakery shattered. Broken glass scattered across the pathway and grazed a poor homeless woman sitting next to the building. Marinette dropped the basket, spilling the apples. She bolted inside.

The bakery was absolutely trashed. Croissants and muffins and cakes littered the floor, visibly having been tread on. Two royal soldiers stood over her father, who laid on the ground taking every blow they gave him without complaint. Her mother was crying not far from them, looking torn between wanting to stop them and knowing it would be futile.

“ _Stop!_ ” Marinette heard the word escape her before she could stop them. The soldiers turned towards her, looking too calm for a couple of guys mercilessly beating on another person. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had done, she’d just _yelled_ at two royal soldiers, but she steeled her gaze anyway, holding her ground. 

“Marinette…” Tom breathed, shaking his head at her, eyes pleading.

The soldiers appeared shocked, and one of them started looking really pissed. However, the one next to him placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him out of the way, his expression shifting to that of a predator about to pounce on his prey. 

He stalked forward until he was close enough so she could smell the awful stench of his breath wafting over her face. He leaned closer still.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He tilted his head at her, an oily smile gracing his lips. Marinette kept her eyes fixed on the floor. She could see her father’s blood on his shoes. Her heart started racing and rage was bubbling too close to the surface. She clenched her fists.

He leaned in so he could whisper directly into her ear. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” She couldn’t help physically recoiling at that, but she was able to keep it to a minimum. When he reached a hand up to touch her face, she took a generous step back.

“Is there a problem here?” She met his greasy stare. “Sir?” she added. She kept her expression blank, but her eyes burned with suppressed anger.

He chuckled. “No, no problem. Just a procedure, missy.” He stalked forward again. “As you know, the King is coming through, and it’s our job to clear the area for him. We can’t have rebels like Chat Noir stalking around, now, can we?” She bit down on her tongue, hard, when he reached up and touched her cheek. She turned her face away from him.

Before he could voice the gross comment already forming on his tongue, a new voice sounded from behind her.

“His Majesty is nearing. The peasants need to be in order.” 

The greasy soldier sighed and lowered his hand. “Damn, just when things were about to get interesting.” He abruptly forced her chin up rather aggressively, forcing her to look at him again. “I’ll be seeing you again.” It was a statement, not a question. She felt her stomach turn over with disgust. 

Once the soldier reluctantly let her go, she immediately stepped around him and crouched down next to her papa, making sure he was alright. His face was bruised and cut up, and she knew his abdomen was as well. She heard yelling outside as the soldiers ordered the townspeople out of their homes and into the streets. She and Sabine helped Tom stand and guided him to the door.

“Hurry your asses up!” one of the soldiers barked, and they quickened their pace. Once outside, Marinette felt her heart break as she witnessed her neighbors being subjected to the cruel treatment of the soldiers all around her. The poor homeless woman was being forced to clean up the glass on the ground from the broken window, and the sweet old man across the street was being shoved into the dirt, his fruit stand laying in pieces nearby.

Marinette grasped both her parents’ hands and kneeled in the dirt between them, Tom and Sabine following suit. The ground was cold, and mud soaked through her smock, no doubt staining it. The wind was picking up again, and the sound of the royal procession grew closer. Her mother’s hands trembled, and she was certain hers did too. 

She was filled with so much suppressed rage. On this very street, Marinette used to watch the Queen roam with her small son in tow, chatting with her people and receiving just as much love as she gave out. Now, along with the rest of the townspeople, her head was being roughly shoved down into a bow as the royal procession came into view. The last minute bellows of the soldiers died out as the carriage approached and a deafening silence overtook them.

Marinette was hyper aware of the location of the carriage. Out of the corner of her eye she could vaguely make out its appearance: large, white, with large empty windows in the doors that were covered by white veils. He was surely inside. Even if she was looking, though, she wouldn’t be able to see him. 

The carriage grew closer and closer, and her heartbeat grew faster and faster. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the onset of memories of the sweet blonde boy she once knew. _It’s not him. That’s not him anymore._ Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she repeated the mantra to herself. She squeezed her parents’ hands, trying to distract herself with the warmth. The carriage was now directly in front of them.

A large gust of wind and a whipping sound startled her eyes open. Instinctively, she glanced up.

The veil covering the window had blown up, revealing a figure: the King himself. She felt her heart stutter as she took him in. His blonde hair was styled neatly, no longer messy like his childhood self liked it. He looked much older; no longer did he have his round, youthful face. His cheekbones and jaw were carefully sculpted, but his features were still relatively familiar to her. She knew the moment she looked at those gorgeous emerald eyes of his, she’d finally break, but she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes locked onto his, and-

Her heart completely stopped.

Black eyes glanced lazily out the window, easily overlooking the one person that stared directly at him.

For a moment she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and then at once her heartbeat slammed powerfully in her chest and a large wave of emotion crashed over her. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as a painful sob built up in her throat. Her world felt like it was crashing down around her, and everything she had forced herself to believe for the last ten years crumbled. She couldn’t feel her body anymore. She couldn’t feel the icy wind whipping at her face. She couldn’t feel her mother tugging on her hand, trying to get her to avert her eyes.

_It’s not Adrien-_

_It’s never been-_

_All this time-_

_Then who the hell is-_

Somewhere among the rubble of her thoughts, hope gleamed. As the carriage rolled out of her line of sight, it was replaced by the wall directly across from her. Her eyes glanced over the many papers plastered to the wall, including a wanted poster depicting a masked figure, the name Chat Noir printed across the bottom, until her eyes landed on one poster that spoke directly to her soul.

Its design was simple. A single eye was sketched artfully in the center, its iris painted a vibrant green, with one word handwritten across the bottom:

 _Remember._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if this story is something you want to hear more of by leaving me a comment ;)


	2. His Beautiful Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments guys, I really appreciate hearing feedback. They've made me even more excited about this fic, so I cranked out this chapter this morning at like 6AM. I don't know why but I'm on fire right now and I'm probably gonna get started on the next chapter after posting this one.  
> Please enjoy ;)

_Thirteen Years Ago_

Emilie grinned from ear to ear at the sight before her. The townsfolk were bustling about, some stopping to chat warmly with the merchants, others stopping to help an older woman pick up her dropped groceries. Children weaved through them, their joyous shrieks penetrating through the sound of the general street chatter. Mothers gripped their children’s hands tightly as they walked them from stand to stand, the kids’ eyes wide with wonder.

Emilie glanced down at her own wondrous child. Although he was wearing an enormous hat to hide the upper portion of his face, she could see her eight year old was in awe. Being cooped up within the castle walls all the time was suffocating the poor boy. He wanted to go out and see the towns, see the people. Sure, he’d been here before during the royal processions, but this was different. Nobody knew they were there. The townsfolk just went about their lives as they normally did, and Adrien was finally able to stand among them. This small town domestic life was what Adrien truly craved to see.

“Do you want to walk around a bit, honey? Maybe we can go buy something,” Emilie suggested.

Adrien beamed up at her, his emerald eyes gleaming from under his hat. He nodded enthusiastically. Emilie readjusted her own hat to hide her face better before gripping her son’s hand tightly and walking him to the nearest merchant stand.

The middle-aged man smiled warmly at them. “Good afternoon,” he greeted. Can I interest you in some fruit? These berries were picked fresh this morning.” Emilie looked down at her son. He seemed to be looking for something. The merchant noticed too. “Is there something in particular you’d like?” he asked him.

Adrien was slightly shy, but he spoke up nevertheless. “Do you have any apples, sir?” he asked politely.

The merchant smiled at the boy’s manners, but he shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m fresh out of apples.” At Adrien’s slightly slumped shoulders, he continued. “But, I know where you could maybe find some. That bakery,” he pointed directly behind them, “makes a lot of treats using apples from the local orchard. If it’s just apples you want, I’m sure they’ll have some. Otherwise, I’d recommend trying their apple pie. It’s delicious.” 

Adrien grinned. “Pie?” he asked excitedly. “Maman, can we go to the bakery? Please?”

Emilie sighed fondly. “You and your sweet tooth… Of course we can baby.” She kindly thanked the merchant and they headed toward the bakery.

A small bell chimed when Emilie pushed the door open, and they were welcomed by the sweet scent of homemade pastries. A kind looking woman behind the counter greeted them as they walked further into the small shop.

“Hello there. Can I help you with anything?” the woman asked.

Emilie returned the smile the woman offered. “We heard from across the street that you offer some tasty apple pastries.” Not a moment after the words left her mouth, Adrien broke away from her and wandered over to the side wall. He gaped at the multitude of pastries packed onto the shelves lining the walls. He recognized some of them, but most of the goods were unfamiliar to him. Either way, he wanted to try them all.

Emilie and the woman chuckled at the amazed boy. “Well it seems he’s already found them,” the woman mused. Emilie walked up to the counter and began chatting with the woman, but Adrien didn’t seem to notice. He wandered aimlessly as he scanned the walls, absolutely in awe. In the castle, his meals were prepared for him. If he wanted something specific, he asked for it, and they made it for him. He’d never had the experience of going to a store and just browsing their options, finding something he liked, and buying it. He was overwhelmed by the choices in front of him. He knew he couldn’t just buy everything at once, but he really, _really_ wanted to.

Adrien heard footsteps, and he turned his head toward the sound. A young girl had just exited from what appeared to be the kitchen, balancing a large plate of pastries in her small hands. She ducked below the counter hatch, leaning forward as she did so. However, she leaned a bit too far and started stumbling forward, straight towards Adrien. He instinctively raced forward and grabbed her arm with one hand, stopping the fall and steadying her, the other hand supporting her grip on the plate so the pastries didn’t scatter across the floor. He didn’t realize his hat had fallen off.

The girl appeared a bit startled from almost falling, but when she looked up to meet his eyes, she looked downright shocked.

“Woah,” she whispered. “Maman, look at his eyes!” she exclaimed. “They’re so pretty!”

Sabine and Emilie had witnessed the encounter, and the moment Sabine saw the young boy’s eyes, she put her hands over her mouth as she realized just who the mother and son duo in her bakery actually were. 

“Oh my-” She looked to Emilie. “Your-Your Majesty?! I-I didn’t realize-” Sabine moved to bow to the other woman, but Emilie grabbed her hands to stop her.

“It’s okay, Sabine. That’s not necessary. And please,” she added, “call me Emilie.” Sabine’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to protest, but Emilie cut her off. “I insist.” Sabine looked astounded. She’d grown up under the rule of Emilie’s father, and she was now raising her daughter under the rule of the woman in front of her, both people known for being exceptionally kind and warm-hearted. She couldn’t believe she now had the honor to have the Queen herself and the Prince in her bakery. She had no words.

Marinette, on the other hand, was oblivious to this revelation. She set the plate down on a nearby table and faced Adrien again. “Wow, thanks for catching me! It would’ve been bad if I fell.” She noticed his hat on the ground and bent to pick it up. She held it out to him. “Here you go, but you shouldn’t wear such a big hat. It hides your pretty eyes,” she commented.

Adrien flushed at the compliment and took the hat from her.

“I’m Marinette,” she continued. “What’s your name?”

“Adrien.”

“Ooo, like the Prince? That’s cool,” Marinette mused, still not connecting the dots just yet. “Hey, Adrien, do you wanna help me put the pastries on the shelves?” She offered him a bright smile.

Adrien couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the girl. She was talking to him, without his face hidden, and she still treated him like he was… normal. Equal. Just your average kid. Hearing another person his age refer to him as just Adrien ‒not Prince Adrien, not Your Highness‒ made him feel warm inside. He’d never had the chance to really make friends with anyone ‒the only other person his age was his cousin Felix, and their relationship was strained to say the least‒ so the offer to do something even as mundane as stocking shelves with another kid made him feel ecstatic. It made him feel _normal._

He nodded enthusiastically, and Marinette clapped her hands together before explaining to him the different sections of the bakery and where certain pastries were supposed to go. Emilie smiled fondly as she watched her son, the Prince of France, nearly bouncing on his feet at the prospect of being able to stock the shelves of a bakery. Emilie turned to Sabine.

“Would you mind if we came again?”

* * *

Adrien’s stomach churned with nerves. He paced back and forth along one of the paths in the orchard, Marinette sitting on the ground in front of him. In the past few years of their friendship, Marinette had only seen Adrien this nervous a handful of times. Taking him to the orchard usually calmed him down. She reached into her basket and offered him the reddest, ripest apple she could find, but he refused it. 

Uh oh, this must be serious.

“Adrien, you’re going to be fine. Haven’t you met other royals before?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah, but that was different. I was pretty young at the time, so my mom did most of the talking.” Adrien brought his hands up to his temples as he continued to pace. “Mari, they’re gonna be scrutinizing me the entire time. I’m supposed to be the King one day, but what if I screw up and then they hate me and then in forty years France will lose the British as an ally because I was stupid-”

“Adrien, look at me.” He stopped walking and met her eyes. “You’re overthinking this,” she said pointedly. He sighed and continued pacing, obviously not convinced. “Look, you’re like, eleven. There’s no way they can expect you to be perfect.”

“Well my own country expects me to be perfect, so why should they think any different?” he mumbled.

Marinette huffed. He did have a point, the Emerald superstition put a lot of pressure on him, but she wasn’t about to let that fuel his nerves even further. “Look, they’re royalty too. They probably understand more than anyone just how human you guys actually are. Besides, you’re still learning how to be a monarch. They can’t expect you to be prepared to take the throne any time soon, you’re just a kid. So any mistakes you might make now, I’m sure they’ll forgive once you’re older.” 

Adrien slowed his pacing and glanced at her. “Really?” 

Marinette smiled. “Really.”

Adrien gave a small nod. He paused for a moment before holding out his hand. Marinette suppressed a grin as she handed the apple over. Adrien took a large bite and chewed thoughtfully. He swallowed before speaking again. “I guess I’m just nervous I’m going to address them wrong. Royal women can get really insulted if you do that.”

Marinette tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Adrien bit his lip as he began pacing again. “When you speak to royal women, you address them based on their status and who they get that status from. Generally, married women who get their status from their husbands would be called Madam, and unmarried women, or daughters of royalty, would be called Miss. But lately, Miss has become more of a common honorific, so maybe My Lady would be more appropriate… but isn’t that one interchangeable between married and unmarried women? I wouldn’t want to offend anyone by not calling them Madam or call them Miss if it’s become an informal term…” Adrien rambled as he buried a hand in his hair and began stressing out again.

Marinette didn’t exactly process most of what he said, but she was going to work with what she did understand.

“Look, if you’re afraid you’re gonna mess up on titles, then why don’t we practice?” 

Adrien stopped. “What?”

Marinette stood. “I’ll pretend to be a royal woman, and you’ll have to greet me according to the status I tell you.” Adrien just raised his eyebrows at her. “Ugh, just go along with it. It’ll help, I promise.” She took the apple from his hand and threw it in the basket. She grabbed his shoulders and positioned him right in front of her. “Now, I’m the princess of Great Britain. I’m young, and I’m unmarried. Now, how would you greet me?”

Adrien stood awkwardly for a moment before giving a small bow. Marinette put a finger to his nose and pushed him back upright. 

“Hey!” Adrien pouted and held a hand to his nose.

“Try again. You’re too stiff. You need to be relaxed, but still respectful,” Marinette advised.

A loud bird began cawing overhead. “Sorry, but it's a little hard getting into character.” A light breeze rustled the leaves in the orchard, adding to the distracting noises.

Marinette crossed her arms. “Doesn’t matter. If you can manage to do it in these conditions, then you’ll do just fine during the real thing. Now, try again.”

Adrien closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He thought this was stupid, honestly, but if Marinette really wanted him to play along, he would. He opened his eyes and plastered on a very fake and overexaggerated smile. The corners of her lips twitched. 

“Princess Marinette.” He bowed lowly.

She lifted the skirt of an imaginary dress in a bow as well. “Prince Adrien.” She was having a hard time suppressing a grin.

He straightened slightly and reached for her hand, bowing low again to place a small kiss on the back. “My apple-ogies, My Lady, for my rudeness earlier. If you need anything, I’ll be right be-cider you in a heartbeat.”

Marinette finally cracked. They both burst into laughter and soon found themselves rolling on the ground, wiping stray tears from their eyes.

They spent the rest of the afternoon making apple puns and wandering the orchard, Adrien’s nerves completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist the puns ;)
> 
> Also I don't know much about titles and how royals address each other so I'm just gonna roll with what I ended up with. Please leave a comment below, they're what motivate me to write more ;)


	3. It All Fell Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song "Dynasty" by MIIA. I thought the song was rather fitting for this story.

_Ten Years Ago_

“Oh! Good morning, Your Majesty.” Sabine bowed her head as the monarch entered the bakery.

Emilie shook her head. “Sabine, please, call me Emilie.” 

This was a typical interaction between the two mothers whenever Emilie and Adrien came to visit. Adding to the normalcy, Tom exited the kitchen with the same greeting. Emilie just sighed.

Tom grinned and turned to the young Prince. “Good morning, Adrien! Are you up for some taste testing today?” Tom asked.

Adrien beamed up at him. “Always!”

He followed Tom back into the kitchen. Various containers and pans scattered the counter where Marinette sat with flour dusting her face and clothes. 

“Hey, Princess!” he greeted.

Marinette rolled her eyes. Ever since she pretended to be ‘Princess Marinette’ a few weeks ago, he continued to address her as such. She acted mildly annoyed by it, but she actually found it quite endearing.

He hopped up onto the counter beside her and waited for Tom to gather up the treats he prepared for them to taste. 

All of the pastries were delicious; nothing his personal chefs baked at the castle could ever top Tom Dupain’s signature croissants. Adrien wasn’t exactly helpful when it came to the taste testings ‒he devoured anything given to him and said it was amazing‒ but it warmed his heart that they waited for him anyway. Marinette gave helpful feedback concerning the sweetness and texture of the pastries, which Tom accepted gratefully.

‘You know, if you two feel up to it,” Tom said as he finished jotting down corrections to his recipes, “you could stop by the market and get a few things for me. I’ll give you a few Francs, and you can use the change to buy whatever you’d like.”

Ten minutes later, Marinette and Adrien exited the bakery with a basket and a pocketful of money. The market was a bit of a walk, but it was worth it. They loved the local merchants with all their hearts, but there was something special about the market. It had an abundance of clothes and jewelry and trinkets that were all unique and handmade, pretty much all indulgences rather than the usual necessities sold at the local shops.

“Woah!” Adrien exclaimed the moment they stepped foot in the field, tents and merchant stands arranged in rows all around them. The nearest tent had a magic show going on, where the magician was manipulating fire. Marinette had to drag Adrien away, not for the first time, before he got too engrossed in one of the more charming aspects of the market.

“Don’t get too distracted. Let’s finish my dad’s list first, then we can go walk around.”

Easier said than done. Marinette had a hard time finding some of the items on the list, and every time she stopped at a tent to ask for directions, Adrien would get entranced by another performance nearby. After a while, Marinette stopped fighting him. She could come to the market whenever she pleased ‒and she did‒ but Adrien didn’t get to experience this place as often, so for now she let him roam.

“Ooo, Marinette, what are those?” he asked, pointing at a group of small cages.

“Those are hamsters.” She watched him crouch down and stick a finger in a cage. “You know, I’ve always wanted to get a pet hamster, but Maman and Papa said I have to wait until I’m older.”

Adrien turned his head back in her direction. “You’re older now, right? Than the last time they told you no? So you should get one, and then I can come play with it whenever I come over.” He looked proud of his reasoning.

“Well, considering they told me last week, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer, pal.” She patted him on the shoulder, and he let out a small disappointed sigh.

As they made their way past a jewelry stand, a pair of glittering earrings caught Marinette’s eye. She slowed down a bit to get a better look. Adrien turned around when he noticed her not walking beside him. He followed her gaze to the earrings.

“Do you want them?” he asked, startling her.

“What? Oh, well... “ She glanced at the price tag. _20 Francs._ Her Papa had given her 6 Francs, and that was to include the items he needed as well. She sighed. “It’s okay, I don’t need-”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Adrien called out to the merchant. “I’d like to buy those red earrings right there.” 

“Of course. That’ll be 20 Francs, please.” 

Marinette watched in shock as Adrien pulled exactly 20 Francs out from his pocket. As he went to hand them over, she grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Adrien, you don’t have to. That’s a lot of money… Besides, I can just save up-”

“It’s okay, Marinette.” He gave her a small smile. “I want to.”

She wanted to protest more, but he already handed the money over to the woman. She placed the earrings in a small box and gave it to Adrien. “Have a nice day, young man.”

“Thank you.” Adrien walked Marinette a few feet away before putting the box behind his back and turning to face her. “I have a surprise for you, Princess.”

Marinette huffed at his antics, but she played along anyway. “Oh really?”

“Mhm.” He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Close your eyes.”

Now this was ridiculous. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he rocked back and forth on his feet, waiting for her to comply. With another huff, she closed her eyes. After a moment, he said, “Okay, open them.”

She did. He held the box out, lid off. She couldn’t help but gasp quietly at how much more beautiful the earrings were up close. They were a pair of ruby red studs that glinted and sparkled underneath the sun, and the shadow and dimension of the jewels created the illusion of black spots. They were gorgeous.

She took the earrings, speechless. She stared at her best friend for a moment, trying to think of something to say that would convey how thankful she was. She surprised him by pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He froze for a moment before reciprocating it in full. He didn’t receive hugs all that often, only from his mother, so hugging Marinette made him feel warm inside. A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Anything for you, Princess.”

* * *

Adrien half skipped down the echoey halls of the castle with no destination in mind. The guards watched him pass once, twice, three times, but they did nothing more than nod their heads at the young Prince every time he went by.

As Adrien rounded the corner, he nearly collided face first with another person. He went to apologize, but halted when he saw who it was.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Felix asked, though his tone suggested he didn’t care in the slightest.

“Oh, um… nothing really. I just slept well, that’s all,” Adrien deflected. The truth was, he was going to see Marinette today. He hadn’t visited her since they went to the market together three weeks ago, which was the longest period of time he’d gone without seeing her since the beginning of their friendship. Felix didn’t exactly know about Marinette, and Adrien didn’t plan on telling him.

There was something about Felix that just felt… off.

Adrien couldn’t put his finger on it, but his cousin always seemed to rub him the wrong way. As kids Adrien tried to befriend Felix, but they never really got along. Felix was always cold to Adrien no matter what he did, and he liked to make snide remarks criticizing Emilie’s policies and performance as a monarch without realizing that Adrien might be offended by them. 

Or maybe he did realize it, but he just didn’t care how Adrien would feel.

Either way, Adrien started avoiding him once he found a friend in Marinette. Felix wasn’t oblivious to this, and the obvious improvement in Adrien’s overall mood made him suspicious.

Felix narrowed his eyes slightly. “Ah, I see. You and Aunt Emilie are skipping again, aren’t you?”

Adrien blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“I’ve seen you two. You guys leave all the time and go to the slums. I guess you convinced the guards at the door to let you go alone?” Felix scoffed. “I can’t believe the Queen is allowed to opt out of her duties and roam around among the peasants like that, must say a lot about how pathetic the monarchy has become.” Felix sneered.

Adrien felt a bubble of irritation rise inside of him, not only because of the jab at his mother, but also the jab at the people of Paris. “Don’t call them peasants. They’re actually really amazing, and my mom says it’s important for a monarch to get to know their people. I mean, she has to make decisions regarding their livelihood, so shouldn’t she be as educated about them as possible?” Adrien said politely, even though he felt the urge to punch Felix in his smug face.

Felix raised an eyebrow, surveying Adrien as if he was an idiot. “You don’t need to cozy up to the beggars like that. They’re already convinced of that stupid myth about your eyes, they’ll follow you blindly, whatever you do. Why would you still waste your time trying to win them over?”

Adrien let out a small huff of annoyance. “It doesn’t matter if they love me or not, what matters is if I can make their lives as safe and happy as possible, and I won’t know how to do that unless I see them firsthand. The monarch is a servant to the people, not the other way around.”

Felix scoffed. “Oh? Well if they’re _all_ so important to you, why do you only go to the same place every time you leave?”

Adrien froze. _What? How did he-_

“I knew it.” Felix grinned triumphantly. “You go see someone, don’t you?”

Adrien opened his mouth to deny it, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that sounded believable. 

“You don’t actually expect that to last, right?” Felix chuckled. “You’ve noticed how busy things are getting around here, that’s why you and mommy haven’t gone out in a while. It already takes up enough time to go out and,” he raised his fingers in air quotes, “ _visit_ your beloved people, but what good of a King will you be if you spend all that time canoodling with a single commoner? I thought you cared about _all_ of them. Sounds to me like that’s just an excuse.” He took a step forward. “Admit it. You’re too weak to handle all of this, so you’re running away, trying to pretend like you’re normal. Well guess what,” they were practically nose to nose, “as long as you’ve got those stupid green eyes of yours, you’ll never be normal.” 

With that, he was gone, leaving Adrien alone with Felix’s words echoing in his mind. 

* * *

A cool breeze drifted through the orchard, rustling the leaves and blowing Marinette’s hair into her face once more. She swiped at it, trying to gather enough to tuck behind her ear again. She blew out an annoyed puff of air and glanced to her side. 

Adrien was stretched out on his back beside her. They were watching the grey clouds roll by in the sky. Neither said anything. Usually, they couldn’t stop talking to each other. Adrien’s visits were never more than a couple of hours. He was the Prince of France; he had obligations and responsibilities, even at his young age. Although he wasn’t essential for legal meetings and decisions, he was a King in training, and he needed to build up as much knowledge and experience as he could through observations. However, that took away from his time with her. 

When they were first getting to know each other, it didn’t take long for her to notice just how little he talked about himself and the fact that he was literal royalty. He dodged the subject skillfully, so she tried not to bring it up. The only instances where it would come up were when he was stressing out about an event at the palace or when his cousin was pissing him off. 

Marinette could tell how much he valued their visits together. His time with her was limited, but it was his only chance to forget himself and who he was. Because this time was so precious, they never wasted it. They would tell stories, play games, pick apples; they were always doing _something_.

Today was different. She didn’t know why, but neither had anything to say or anything they wanted to do. In three years, today was their first lazy day. Marinette didn’t mind. The silence felt comfortable. Looking at Adrien, she could tell he was lost in thought. She contemplated asking him what was on his mind, but she didn’t have to.

He opened his mouth to say something, but let out a deep sigh instead. He watched the sky for a few moments, his face wistful. “Do you think…” he started slowly, “I’ll ever be able to live like this?” His eyes followed a small bird as it flew overhead. Marinette turned back to the sky, watching it too.

He continued. “Do you think I could ever be… normal?” His expression was full of yearning as he imagined what his life could be, without the pressure, without the responsibilities. For a moment a small smile graced his lips at the image forming in his mind’s eye: living in a small cottage near the orchard, where he picked apples and roamed wherever and whenever he felt like it; baking with Marinette and helping her stock shelves every day, just like when they first met; walking through the town without a hat covering his face, chatting freely to the merchants; not constantly watching his language register, not having to remain poised and proper, not having to be perfect.

As soon as the smile appeared, it disappeared. His expression became sorrowful and forlorn. His gaze dropped as reality sank in again.

Marinette had nothing to say. There was nothing for her to say. She watched her best friend lie there on the grass, one hand pillowing his head. He was such a sweet boy. Emilie had done an amazing job raising him to become one of the best people she’s ever known, but there was nothing she could’ve done to lessen the pressure put on him. Being King one day, ruling an entire country, it was daunting. 

She knew no matter what he did, though, the country would love him anyway, but she couldn’t tell him that. As long as an Emerald was on the throne, the people were as forgiving as they come. Although they never discussed it, being dubbed as an Emerald bothered him. He hated the fact that the people expected such great things from him, would love him, solely based on his eye color. He wanted to become a great leader for his country, and he wanted it to be because of _him_ , because he was a good King, not because of his genetics. He hadn’t made many public appearances yet, nobody really knew him, yet he already had the people’s love. 

“I wish I could just come here forever,” he whispered softly.

She knew what he was referring to. Another topic they avoided. Adrien’s duties as the Prince were becoming more pronounced as he got older. They both knew these visits wouldn’t last much longer, but neither wanted to think that way. This was the first time he addressed it out loud.

He turned his head and met her gaze. She stared into his emerald eyes. They were so beautiful, but her heart broke at all the pain and sadness hidden behind them.

She gave him a sad smile. “Me too,” she whispered, but then she reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “But for now, let’s make the most of the time we have, okay?”

He looked at her for a long moment, some of the sorrow in his eyes leaking away, replaced by something else: adoration. He scarcely remembered his life before her, and he was fine with that. No matter what mood he was in, whether it be overly optimistic as usual or depressed as he was now, she was always there to match him, to comfort him. She was an incredible person, even at the young age of eleven, and he wanted her in his life forever. If he couldn’t have that, he’d make sure she lived on in his memories.

“Okay,” he whispered.

* * *

Adrien and Marinette walked up the slope leading back to the bakery. Their moods were significantly lighter as they had joked and laughed together the whole walk from the orchard. Even though they didn’t say much earlier, Marinette felt like she connected with Adrien a little more. Seeing him when he was vulnerable made her feel much closer to him; now she knew he was a friend she could both laugh and cry with if needed. She’d be there for him through anything, and she knew he’d do the same.

She couldn’t fight the small smile that appeared on her face after he cracked another apple joke. She shoved him playfully. “Where on earth are you getting all these from? Do you spend all your time brainstorming as many apple-related puns as you can?”

“What can I say, Princess? I’m pretty hard- _core_.” Marinette shoved him again, for the pun and the nickname.

“I’m still waiting for that to die out.”

Adrien bumped her with his shoulder. “Never.”

As they approached the buildings and merchant stands, Adrien pulled out the enormous hat he wore to hide his face and carefully positioned it on his head. They walked towards the stand across from the bakery. Marinette warmly greeted the middle-aged fruit merchant as she handed him the basket of apples.

“Afternoon, Paul. Here are those apples you needed.” 

“Thank you, Marinette.” He poured the apples into a box in his stand. He motioned to the rest of the fruit. “Take whatever you’d like. I heard your father wanted to try his hand at a peach cobbler, so be sure to take some of these peaches back to him.” Paul handed the empty basket back to Marinette, and she began filling it with peaches and an assortment of other fruits she wanted to try.

Adrien waited patiently behind her. He turned around and peered into the windows of the bakery. He saw Sabine at the counter and Tom clearing some old unsold pastries from the displays, but there was no sign of his mother.

This wasn’t abnormal. Sometimes she stuck around the bakery while Adrien and Marinette ran off, but she was usually wandering around Paris and talking to as many people as possible. Adrien figured that was where she was now.

He heard a small pattering on his hat and looked up. The clouds were thick and grey, swirling around overhead. A water droplet hit his cheek. He sighed. Him and his mother would have to walk home in the rain. The royal guards would be worried if they stayed out any longer. The merchants and townsfolk bustling about began pulling up their hoods and seeking cover before the rain started to come down too hard.

He glanced around the street and spotted Emilie walking from the direction opposite of where he’d just returned. She was pretty far away from him, but he could see her give him a warm smile.

When she was some thirty feet away from him, a hooded townsperson bumped straight into her, spilling the basket they were carrying and knocking off Emilie’s sunhat. He couldn’t hear what was said, but it appeared they were both apologizing and crouching down to pick up the scattered items.

Adrien saw his mother’s kind face appear over the person’s shoulder as she looked up to apologize to them directly, but her face morphed from apologetic to slightly surprised and confused. Her brows furrowed and she opened her mouth to say something.

It all happened so fast.

The person shifted forward abruptly. Emilie’s emerald eyes went wide with shock, her mouth gaping. The figure took off, but Adrien didn’t see where they went. 

He didn’t see anything other than the crimson stain spreading in his mother’s abdomen. 

No...

An icy chill shot through his body, reaching every nerve and gripping his heart, squeezing tight.

_No..._

The moment stretched on for an eternity. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Emilie placed a hand to her stomach before glancing down at the blood coating her palm. She looked up, meeting his eyes.

That was all it took to spur him into action. 

He stumbled forward, letting the hat slip off his head. Nothing else mattered to him other than reaching her, holding her. Once he got there, he’d see she was fine. That he was too far away and he’d seen it wrong. She was fine.

But she wasn’t.

She started tipping, and he finally found his voice. “ _No!_ ” he skidded into a kneeling position next to her, catching her shoulders before they hit the ground. His hands trembled as he lowered her head into his lap, hesitantly reaching out to the large bloodstain on her shirt.

Adrien’s mind raced. He pressed down on the injury, trying to stop the blood flowing rapidly from the wound. His whole body shook as he tried to process what was happening. “M-Mom?” His voice cracked on the word.

She gasped for air, coughing weakly. There was so much blood. Adrien stared down at her with wide eyes. 

_This isn’t happening…_

The shock on Emilie’s face slowly turned to sorrow as she gazed at her young son above her.

_My baby boy…_

She was growing tired, but she fought to stay awake, refusing to look anywhere but at him.

_My sweet baby boy…_

“M-M-Mom?! Y-You’re... be alright… get help…” She vaguely understood what he was saying, but it was a comfort just to hear his voice as her consciousness ebbed away.

_I’m sorry…_

Emilie smiled softly at her son as the light slowly left her eyes, leaving her staring unseeingly at the young boy barely holding onto his sanity. 

Adrien let out a shuddering breath. Tears swam in his eyes, blurring his vision. A rushing sound filled his ears. He blinked rapidly, tears finally falling down his cheeks.

“H-Hey… Mom…” He shook her slightly. “Mom… wake up....!” His voice cracked again, but she continued to lay limply in his arms, the ghost of a smile still etched on her face. His throat started closing up, something rising deep down inside of him. “ _Please!_ ” he half sobbed. He leaned forward, clutching her to his chest, rocking back and forth. 

This was a dream.

This had to be a dream.

She couldn’t be-

An unbearable pain built in his chest, growing until he finally let out a grief-stricken wail. He couldn’t stop the cries tearing their way from his throat. He’d never felt anything like this before.

 _Pure agony_. 

He barely registered the gasps and yells, the arms wrapping around him, the rain pouring down in sheets. He was surrounded by people, but he didn’t care.

Nothing could soothe his soul as it was shredded to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Adrien :(


	4. In Pieces

_Ten Years Ago_

“Afternoon, Paul. Here are those apples you needed.” 

“Thank you, Marinette. Take whatever you’d like. I heard your father wanted to try his hand at a peach cobbler, so be sure to take some of these peaches back to him.” Paul handed Marinette the basket. She grabbed a few peaches and surveyed the stand, racking her brain for more fruit pastry ideas she could propose to her father. She noticed a few pineapples lined up near the front of the stand.

“Ooo, you finally got ahold of some?” Marinette motioned to the pineapples.

Paul grinned and nodded. “I did. Would you like one?” Marinette took the fruit gratefully, placing it in her basket. Her and Adrien both loved pineapple, but they could never find any in the market. She’d have to cut it up and give him some to eat on the way back to the palace.

Suddenly she felt a droplet of water land on her head, then another on her hand. Her and Paul both glanced up at the dark clouds; it was definitely going to rain, probably even storm. He let out a sigh and began searching underneath his stand, eventually pulling out a cloak.

“You’d better get inside, Marinette, before it really starts to come down.” He slid the cloak over his shoulders and began packing up the stand.

“Do you need any help? You can bring your boxes into the bakery and wait out the rain with us. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind the company,” Marinette offered.

Paul smiled gratefully. “Thank you, that would be nice.”

Marinette returned the smile. She turned to the side, setting the basket on the ground. Just as she was about to turn back, something in her peripheral caught her eye.

She looked up in time to see Adrien sprint away from her. She furrowed her eyebrows, confused. _Where is he going?_ She was about to call out to him, but she stopped short at the sound of his voice.

“ _No!_ ”

The yell sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She could feel it, something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong. She looked ahead of him, and her stomach dropped.

Emilie was on her knees, but she was falling. The front of her blouse was stained dark red, and with a sickening lurch in her stomach, Marinette realized it was blood. She stood frozen as Adrien caught his mother before she hit the ground. His eyes were wide and she could see he was shaking, even from this distance.

Adrien’s yell grabbed the attention of the remaining townspeople bustling in the street. Gasps could be heard from all around. Women screamed and covered their children’s eyes. Some ran for help, but just like Marinette, most seemed unable to move. Not only was there a woman rapidly bleeding out on the street before them, but the woman was their _Queen,_ and the young boy cradling her was the Prince. 

There was so much blood, Marinette knew that even if a doctor got here in time, they wouldn’t be able to save her. She tried to move her legs, but they wouldn’t budge. All she could do was raise a trembling hand to her mouth and watch as Emilie quietly gasped for air, staring up at her son. After what felt like an eternity, she went still. 

Everything was silent for a moment, the only sound was the patter of rain on the muddy street. Adrien’s lips moved, but Marinette couldn’t hear him. 

If she thought the worst was over, she was wrong.

Adrien let out an anguished cry that shook her to her very core. Her blood ran cold. She blanched. The heavy weight in her stomach increased tenfold, and she almost doubled over from the pain. Her face twisted up and her eyes squeezed shut at the pure _torment_ radiating from the sound.

Tom and Sabine came running out into the street, but Marinette didn’t even notice them. Her mind was buzzing, her ears were ringing.

_How could this happen?_

Queen Emilie, the sweetest, most kind-hearted woman, full of an unlimited supply of love for her country, who was always out spending time with her people, whose life was dedicated to the safety and happiness of her people, was just murdered in cold blood.

_Why?_

_Who would do this?_

_Who would-_

A shuddering breath escaped her. Whoever did this, they were still out here. What if…

_What if Emilie isn’t the only target?_

“ _Adrien…_ ” she whispered. Her heart rate increased as panic overtook her.

She suddenly felt her mother grip her arm, turning her. “Marinette, you need to go inside.” Sabine was shaken. Tears swam in her eyes, but she needed to get her daughter out of here. Marinette shouldn’t be seeing this.

Marinette violently shook her head, refusing to look away from Adrien. “No, no he’s still in danger...” she mumbled, weakly pulling away.

“Marinette, please.” Sabine tightened her grip on her daughter’s arm.

“No- no I need-” Marinette pulled harder.

“Marinette-”

“No!” she screamed, wrenching her arm from her mother’s grip and finally finding the feeling in her legs again. She took off towards Adrien. 

“Marinette!”

“They might still be out here! He’s in danger!” Marinette yelled. Cold rain whipped at her face. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her body trembled. Tears built in her eyes as she got closer, as his cries grew louder. She refused to let herself break down. Right now, she just needed to reach him.

She fell to her knees behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His body shook with sobs as she shielded his back with her body. She was here to protect him, any attempts on his life would have to go through her first, but she was also here to comfort him, to feel this pain with him.

It didn’t take long for Tom and Sabine to follow their daughter’s train of thought. Without hesitation, they took off after her. Emilie, their Queen, their friend, was just killed, and they weren’t going to stand by and watch Adrien ‒and now their daughter‒ meet the same fate. Sabine and Tom stood back to back over the young boy and his mom, guarding them, but also shielding them from view. Adrien didn’t deserve to be stared and gawked at, not right now. 

Marinette noticed two figures looming over them. Then three. Four. Five. She glanced up, seeing both her parents standing with their backs to them, but it wasn’t just them. No, a crowd was forming. The village people stood in a circle, all facing outward, arms spread, shielding and protecting the body of their former Queen. Protecting the broken boy who was now their King.

Marinette finally let the tears fall. In just a few minutes, the small world her and Adrien had built together crumbled. The once innocent boy was now in pieces in her arms, and she knew no matter what, nothing could fully put him back together again.

She cried. She cried for Emilie. She cried for the people of France, the country blissfully unaware they’d just lost their beloved Queen. But most importantly, she cried for Adrien. She cried for him as the shining light in his heart was snuffed out, as the pressure finally caused him to buckle, finally caused his world to cave in.

The rain was cold, but neither her nor the wall of people surrounding them made any move to leave, to get somewhere dry and warm. Adrien’s clothes, his hands, were stained red. Blood diluted with water ran in streams down the street.

It wasn’t long before the sound of clopping and splashing announced the arrival of the royal guards. She felt slightly relieved, until she heard yelling. The circle parted, and suddenly Marinette felt herself being yanked roughly away from Adrien. She let out a startled yelp as she landed in the mud, smacking her head on the ground, hard.

A commotion erupted all around them. Tom grabbed ahold of the guard who shoved Marinette. The other soldiers pointed their swords at him, causing the townspeople to cry out. The guards began shouting, no doubt flustered and in a panic as their Queen was lying dead on the ground. Fists were raised, more swords were drawn. The townspeople and guards all screamed at each other, so many misunderstandings between them. Sabine crouched down next to Marinette, helping her into a sitting position and checking her over for any injuries.

Marinette’s eyes fell on Adrien in the midst of the chaos. He seemed unaware of his surroundings, still bent over his mother, sobs shaking his form. Her heart clenched.

More guards appeared, soon outnumbering the remaining townspeople. Many of them didn’t know what to do. Emilie always emphasized respecting the citizens, reasoning with them and never using force against them, but she now lay motionless on the cold hard ground, and her killer could be anywhere, could be any one of these people.

A soldier with a commanding presence moved to stand before the confused guardsmen. “Get these people out of the way! Do whatever is necessary! Right now, our only priority is the King!”

“Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison.

The soldiers stalked forward and grabbed the townspeople, forcefully dragging them to the side of the road. Some went willingly, others fought back. Marinette watched, dazed, as it took three soldiers to haul her struggling dad over, forcing him into a kneeling position in the dirt next to her.

Meanwhile the Lead Guardsman approached Adrien, placing a hand on his shoulder and bending down to say something in his ear, no doubt trying to coax him into coming with them. Adrien looked as if he didn’t even know the man was there. He remained bent over his mom. The guardsman grabbed Adrien’s arm and pulled, but Adrien resisted. He yanked his arm out of the man’s grip and wrapped his arms tighter around Emilie.

The guardsman was visibly irritated. Maybe it was the rain, the yelling and screaming, the stress of leading the troop retrieving the Queen’s body, but he finally snapped. He was done being gentle, he didn’t have time for that.

He roughly grabbed Adrien’s upper arms and pulled him off Emilie. Adrien thrashed in his grip, sobbing and shouting, trying to get back to his mother. The guard held Adrien’s arms firmly behind his back, restraining him.

Marinette couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her. Everything was wrong. Minutes ago this street was lively, people bustling about. Minutes ago Marinette stood at a fruit stand chatting warmly with the merchant. Adrien stood behind her, waiting patiently, content. Minutes ago Emilie roamed the streets, beaming as she walked among the people she loved so much.

Now, the townspeople were thrown in the mud. Marinette’s head pounded from having it slammed into the ground. Emilie was lying cold and lifeless. Adrien was in pieces…

The guard dragged Adrien backward toward the horses. Adrien fought with all the strength he could muster, but it wasn’t enough. Through the rain, through the tears, his eyes met hers. It felt as though they were seeing each other again for the first time in years. So much had happened, so much had been lost. His eyes held so much emotion, so much pain and grief, too much for a kid to deal with. Right then she knew that he’d never be the same again. She’d never be the same again.

Just like that, the moment was gone. The guards retreated, taking with them the motionless body of their former Queen and the broken form of their new King, leaving a scarred Marinette kneeling between her parents in the mud.

* * *

The funeral was a quiet affair. The people of France mourned from a distance, not allowed to come near the palace during the ceremony. There was no funeral procession. The people set up their own areas to pay their respects to the Queen, but they were almost always taken down by royal officials.

The royal guard became strict. Rules were put in place stripping the people of their freedoms. A curfew was set. All towns were to be under constant surveillance. The royal family was nowhere to be seen or heard from.

The people went with it. Their Queen was just assassinated and the culprit hadn’t been caught yet, of course measures would be taken during this hard time. They mourned in private, and they followed the rules put in place. Everything was quiet.

Nearly a week later, the killer was caught. He was a homeless man. No family. No connections. His execution ‒the first in over a century‒ was made public. The man pleaded his innocence until the very end.

The restraining policies persisted, but the people didn’t complain. They understood how messy the government must be right now. Once everything settled down, once their new Emerald King ascended the throne, everything would go back to the way it used to be.

It didn’t.

Five years passed and the guard never let up, only becoming more and more overbearing. The royal family remained out of sight in the palace. Occasionally the King could be seen on his balcony, and once he was spotted addressing the army ‒still from a slight distance‒ but otherwise he was nowhere to be found.

It didn’t take long for the people to realize that the overbearing policies coming from the castle weren’t state of emergency protocols sent by an advisor; they were permanent policies sent directly from the King. They were shocked and confused. They understood the need for certain measures back when the monarchy was in disarray, but now?

They all knew this was wrong. They all knew these policies were infringing upon their rights and freedoms, yet nobody did anything. They took the policies with little to no complaint.

Why?

Maybe they still held out hope that this would all fade away, that these were just emergency protocols, even as the years passed. Maybe they sympathized with the King, the boy who’d lost his mother right before his eyes. Maybe they believed it was for the best, that these policies were passed with their safety and protection in mind.

No. All of these were just excuses.

The only thing the people clung to was their faith in the Emerald Dynasty.

Everything was silent. They got little to no news every week. They barely had any contact with the rest of the world. The policies kept coming. Everyone was miserable, but nobody made any effort to demand change.

Then Chat Noir appeared.

The royal officials couldn’t stop the news from spreading like wildfire. A masked man under the alias Chat Noir broke into the royal prison, freeing over thirty prisoners, most of whom were once royal soldiers who opposed the new monarchy. Nobody knows how Chat Noir managed to break into the strongest and most heavily guarded prison in France, so it didn’t take long for him to become a household name.

But it didn’t stop there.

Rumors started spreading, ridiculous rumors that only seemed more and more true as time went on. Chat Noir was apparently raising a revolutionary army and plotting to overthrow the King. There were mixed opinions on the subject. Most would agree that the country needed reform, that they wanted things to go back to the way they were, but some didn’t think a full blown revolution was necessary. Some were afraid to question an Emerald. 

Another five years passed. Chat Noir sightings gradually decreased, but the rumors remained strong. Deep down they all knew that somewhere out there, a revolution was lying in wait, and it was only a matter of time before it decided to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Now the plot begins ;)


	5. For Us, For Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block hit me hard with this one, but I finally got it done.  
> Enjoy ;)

Marinette felt a hard tug on her hand. She jolted back to reality, quickly lowering her gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that she’d soon be feeling a hand pulling her by her hair, beating her and arresting her for disrespecting the King. She waited in anticipation, listening for any movement, but none came. The only sound was the carriage now rolling down the slope and out of sight.

Did nobody see her? Perhaps the soldiers were required to avert their eyes as well? The thought occupied her mind briefly before it was drowned out by the flood of realizations from just a moment ago.

_Adrien isn’t on the throne._

_Adrien has never been on the throne._

Beyond any doubt she knew this to be true. All these years she had to convince herself that he had changed, that he lost who he was, because she had no other explanation for what he was doing to his people. She tried believing every excuse she could, but it was never enough. The policies kept coming in with his name signed at the bottom. Her parents had even seen him on the balcony of the castle before, but she continued to try and deceive herself. Maybe someone else was passing the policies. Maybe Adrien wasn’t actually the one behind this, but even if someone else was pulling the strings, the Adrien she knew would never sit back and watch his people suffer like this.

The Adrien she knew.

That’s where her thoughts strayed. All of the theories, excuses, and lies she told herself were based on the fact that he was still the same kid she grew up with. She tried to ignore the fact that the trauma he went through probably changed him as a person. She knew _she_ changed. Her childlike wonder and overly trusting personality disappeared the moment she laid eyes on Emilie’s bleeding form.

Emilie’s death traumatized her, but Adrien’s reaction to it did just as much damage. Adrien was a sheltered child, and he was so, so pure. He was overflowing with kindness and love for everyone around him, including the people who didn’t deserve it. He always held himself together, even when he was stressed or feeling down. He was amazing at hiding his feelings, hiding his vulnerabilities, but behind his optimism, she knew he felt more pressure that anyone his age should.

So when his walls broke down that day, they didn’t just crack. They _shattered_.

His cries, the sight of him hugging his mother tightly to his chest as he pleaded with her to wake up, were seared into her mind. Seeing him finally crumble like that was so jarring, and she hasn’t been a child since. 

If _she_ lost her innocence that day, she was sure he did, but did that mean he lost his morals too? Wouldn’t he want to uphold his mother’s legacy even more after she’s gone?

Or did he have a grudge?

One of Emilie’s people had been the one to end her life. Was he angry and vengeful? Did he want to restrict the people as payback for what happened to his mother at the hands of one of them?

She battled with these thoughts for ten years. She had so many questions, but nowhere to find answers. Nothing made sense. The only explanation for everything was that it was him. He changed. No matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, at some point she had to come to that conclusion.

Now, everything she forced herself to believe was upturned. 

She had more questions than ever before. Her brain hurt and her head pounded as a million different thoughts fought and scrambled to the forefront of her mind, one finally managing to get through.

_Where’s Adrien?_

If he’s never been on the throne, then where has he been all this time? She ditched her previous conclusion; she knew he’d never allow this to happen, all the horrible things the people have been going through, so then where is he? Is he still in the castle, hidden away, his voice drowned out? Was he exiled? 

Is he dea-

She refused to finish that thought. No, of course he’s alive. Wherever he is, he’s alive. That’s a fact. He must have been pushed out of the picture somehow and replaced by whoever she just saw. 

Another mystery. Who the hell was that? He looked startlingly like Adrien‒ she could tell even after not seeing her best friend since he was a child‒ except for his eyes. Whoever this guy was, he was a good fake. 

Now knowing the truth, everything started to click in Marinette’s mind. It made sense why the King never appeared in public. It made sense why he was only ever seen from a distance. It made sense why they forbid anyone from looking directly at him. It made sense why their country was falling apart…

This man isn’t their King. This man was never their King, yet nobody knew. She was certain even the royal guard was oblivious. If word about the swap got out, there would surely be a revolution.

The revolution.

Did the revolution know? Probably not. The revolution was a bit of a taboo subject; many people were still opposed to the thought of rebelling against one of their beloved Emeralds, despite the fact that they were drowning in poverty. Rumors still lingered about it, but as far as Marinette knew, the revolution was silent, and she had no idea if it was even significant anymore.

With their silence, she was sure they didn’t know the truth. If they did know, they’d surely spread the news as fast as possible, or at least start the rumor, therefore increasing the size and success of the revolution.

Marinette was never sure how she felt about it. She understood why it had begun; people were fed up with the monarch and finally decided to ditch the Emerald superstition. Chat Noir was the first person to make national news by openly rebelling the monarchy, so of course he became a staple of the revolution. Those in support of the revolution thought it best to overthrow the King and place Chat Noir on the throne. Those against the revolution thought it best to have faith in their Emerald leader. Marinette shared neither of those views.

Marinette never believed in the Emerald superstition, not after getting to know a pair of Emeralds personally, but she also didn’t feel comfortable with talks of the revolution. She still cared for Adrien, and since she thought he was the King, she was afraid of him getting hurt.

The few people she encountered who supported the revolution disappeared soon after. She wasn’t sure whether the royal guard quietly took care of them or they somehow managed to find the elusive revolutionary army and now resided with them. Either way, she was completely blind as to how big or small the army actually was.

For some reason, though, even now that she knew the truth, she still felt a bit tentative regarding the revolution. Everything about it was unclear, and that included their motive. Were they just trying to overthrow the monarch? Were they trying to get Chat Noir in power? Were they targeting the Emerald Dynasty in particular? Just how radical were they?

The revolution was risky, but Marinette knew it held answers. Chat Noir broke into the castle and probably saw a lot while he was in there. He saw the interior of the prison and possibly other parts of the palace. What if he’d seen… Adrien? Could Adrien have been one of the prisoners freed? Then why had he been silent all these years? Maybe he was still in there? Is that where he’s been all these years? Locked away out of sight?

Marinette was sure Adrien had been in the royal prison at some point, it made sense, but the real question was whether or not he was still there. If he was freed, then Chat Noir would know. If he wasn’t, then the revolution could still help her get to him; if they were planning on overthrowing the monarchy, then they would be infiltrating the castle, including the royal prison.

The only way things could be fixed is if she finds Adrien and overthrows the fake monarch. Adrien is the King of France, he always has been. She knows he belongs on that throne, and not just because of superstition; he was raised by France’s greatest monarch and inherited all of her ideals and love and dedication for his country. If anyone could lead and care for France, it would be Adrien.

She wanted her life back. The only thing that stopped her before was her connection to who she thought was her King, but now that she knew it was never him at all, she had no reason to stay put any longer.

It was time for her to join the revolution.

* * *

Marinette was on edge as she peered through the bakery window. The greasy soldier from earlier was trying to make his way back over, but his superior was rounding up the soldiers to go clear out the next location. She let out a small breath of relief when they finally departed, then she turned to face the mess before her.

Sabine and Tom stood surveying the ruins of their bakery. The display tables were overturned, but some still seemed to be intact. Most of the shelves had been ripped from the wall, leaving bits of pastry and splinters of wood littering the floor. It would cost quite a sum to buy new shelves and also fix the shattered window. It would cost money they didn’t have.

Sabine turned to face her daughter instead. She looked frightened. “Marinette, what happened back there? You looked right at the carriage!”

It took Marinette a moment to drag herself out of her messy thoughts. “What? The carriage?” she asked dumbly.

“Yes! What if someone had seen you? You could've gotten into some serious trouble!”

Marinette just nodded, mind still hazy from her recent revelation.

Sabine’s expression turned worried. “Marinette?” She walked forward and grabbed her daughter’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” She gasped softly. “Did you… you saw him, didn’t you? Oh honey…” Her eyes glistened.

Marinette’s eyes teared up too. “I saw him, Maman.” Her thoughts clustered together and she felt the words build up, ready to come pouring out. “It’s not what you think though. The King, he’s not-”

But she cut herself off. No, telling her parents the truth would be a big mistake. If anyone found out they knew, they’d be executed immediately. Besides, would they even believe her? Would they think she just saw what she wanted to see? Say they did believe her; knowing the risks, they surely wouldn’t let her run off to find Adrien, let alone go join the revolutionary army.

Marinette switched tactics mid sentence. “Can I go away for a while?”

Sabine and Tom exchanged startled looks. “What do you mean, Marinette?” Tom asked.

Her mind raced as she tried to form an explanation. “Um… Well, seeing him today brought back some… unpleasant memories… and with everything that happened today... I just want to get away from it for a little bit, maybe travel around Paris and... meet other people.” Marinette bit her lip. The excuse was weak and choppy, but it was all she could come up with.

Sabine shook her head. “I know it must be tough, sweetie, but traveling? Right now?”

Marinette rushed to correct the doubt in her mother’s voice. “I know it’s dangerous, but I can go under the guise of finding a place to expand the bakery. You guys have talked about doing that before.”

Sabine and Tom continued to stare, looking troubled.

Marinette sighed and gave her parents a gentle smile. “I’m an adult now. I can take care of myself, so you don’t need to worry. Besides, I’ll write to you.” She reached for her mother’s hands and squeezed them. “I’ve always wanted to do this, please let me.”

Tom and Sabine looked at each other again; this time their expressions were soft. Sabine turned back to Marinette and cupped her face.

“No matter how old you are, we’ll never stop worrying about you.” Sabine took a deep breath. “When did you want to leave?”

* * *

Marinette sat on her bed, a bag packed full of clothes next to her. She stared down at the ruby red earrings in her palm, the same earrings that had been hidden in a drawer for nearly a decade. They were just as beautiful as she remembered. Just like when she first laid eyes on them, they evoked a pleasant feeling of awe in her, but now there was a hint of sorrow and nostalgia as well.

She missed him, the young boy who had given her these, grinning as he hid them behind his back, knowing full well she’d just watched him buy them. She knew no matter where he was now, he wasn’t that boy anymore. That boy was gone.

She let her thoughts stray to the journey ahead of her. She would be leaving soon, and she had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she’d keep moving, collecting as much information as she could. She figured after enough time, she’d get lucky.

Marinette wrapped her fingers around the earrings before turning and dropping them in a side pocket in her bag. Perhaps they’d give her some luck, hopefully leading her towards the person who gave them to her.

She knew this journey wouldn’t be easy. She would need to keep a low profile for the coming weeks, maybe months. She’d need to get as much information as possible without being too suspicious. If she endangered herself, she endangered her parents. If she could keep her identity hidden, she’d have a better chance at navigating around without worry.

Marinette glanced over at her vanity. She stood and walked over to it, hesitantly pulling open one of the drawers. A pair of scissors lay in the corner. She eyed them for a moment before she picked them up and sat down, staring at her reflection.

Her hair was long; a few more inches and it would reach her waist. She bit her lip as she reached up and grabbed a lock of hair. Cutting it would surely make her look different, helping her with her disguise. She still felt hesitant. She stared down at the scissors before her gaze strayed to the mirror again, eyeing the reflection of the bag behind her. 

She was suddenly filled with a bout of resolve. Her hair was trivial. This was to get her life back, to get the lives of the people back, to restore her beloved country back to the way it was.

_I’m doing it for us. For him._

She raised the scissors and began furiously cutting through the lock of hair. She didn’t care for small sections and grabbed large chucks, scissors unevenly sawing through the hair like it was rope. Lock after lock fell to the floor. A few minutes later, she dropped the scissors on the vanity with a clatter.

She couldn’t help the small surge of emotion deep inside her at the sight of her reflection. Her hair was choppy and uneven, right around shoulder length. She slowly lifted her hands and wrapped them around two sections, creating the appearance of pigtails. Her eyes stung.

The last time her hair was this short, the last time she’d ever had them in this hairstyle, was back when he was still around. After Emilie’s death, she’d forgotten about her hair and let it grow out. One day her mother pointed it out, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut it. It felt like a feeble attempt to go back to how things were.

Seeing it now, she felt like a stranger. It felt like she was impersonating someone else; she wasn’t that little girl anymore. She took a deep breath and lowered her hands. She swallowed down her fears and doubts, her gaze hardening. She grabbed the scissors and worked on evening out her hair.

_Right. I’m not that girl anymore._

No longer was she the innocent girl who tripped and stumbled. No longer was she the girl who stared up at the clouds in wonder. No longer was she the girl who laid in bed at night and mourned the life she lost.

Just then, she became someone else, someone stronger. Someone determined to find answers, someone set on finding the friend she lost, someone who would get off her ass and fix her broken life.

Now, nothing would stop her.


	6. Behind the Curtain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a pretty good idea of how this whole story will go, and oh boy am I excited for you guys to read it!  
> A huge thank you to everyone who has commented so far <3 <3
> 
> Enjoy :)

A small village on the outskirts of Paris buzzed with nervous energy. For the first time since the Queen’s death, the royal guard put the town under constant surveillance after rumors began to spread, claiming that Chat Noir was using the small town as a communications outlet for the Revolutionary Army.

The townspeople thought that was ridiculous. Last they knew, the royals wouldn’t acknowledge their existence; the procession completely skipped over them last month, saying they were too small to count as a town or make any kind of difference to the country. Now, they were accusing them of helping the revolution. Oh, please. Their town rarely got any traffic; the population hadn’t changed in years, and the number of visitors was at an all time low. At this point, the townspeople suspected the royals were running out of places to blame to make up for the lack of word on the revolution. It had been only a matter of time before they decided to target them.

They had every right to be pissed. The royal soldiers certainly were not angels; the people were tired of their harassment and just wanted them gone.

An older merchant watched as yet another soldier came stumbling out of the bar and wandered about, looking for a victim. The merchant shook her head to herself and averted her eyes. She learned early on that direct eye contact with them never ended well, so she was sure to avoid it. She distracted herself by looking out at the other stands.

A few locals busted about, grocery bags in hand. An unfamiliar figure caught her eye. She appeared to be a young girl, maybe in her early 20s; it was hard to tell because she wore a large hat covering most of her head. She was wandering from stand to stand, casually chatting with the merchants, but never actually buying anything. The woman noticed she spent much longer speaking with Frank‒ God, she hated Frank ‒one stand over.

She found it slightly odd, but decided to wait until the girl approached her before she made any judgments. Sure enough, some five minutes later the girl ambled over.

“Good afternoon, Madam,” she greeted with a warm smile.

The woman returned it. “Good afternoon, Miss. Is there anything I can help you with?”

She fidgeted a little with her bag strap. “Actually, yes. I was wondering if there were any open buildings nearby. My parents own a bakery and would like to expand it out here.”

“I see…” The woman surveyed her. The girl was smiling politely, her entire appearance radiating kindness and innocence. “There are a few buildings for sale on the south side of town…”

The girl’s smile faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly.

“Oh, is that so?” Despite her pleasant smile, she didn’t seem pleased with the answer.

The merchant hesitated before continuing, “But, if I’m honest, you might not want to outsource in this town. At least, not right now.”

That seemed to peak her interest immediately. “Really? Why’s that?” she asked quickly.

The woman glanced at the soldier making his way over to Frank. The girl followed her gaze.

“Oh, I see…” She lowered her voice. “Do you mind if I ask why they’re here?”

“Rumors.” The merchant leaned forward and dropped her voice until it was almost inaudible. “Revolutionary rumors.”

The girl shot a nervous glance over at the soldier, whom Frank was currently cowering under. “And… are they true?” she whispered.

The woman shook her head adamantly. “Of course not! It’s probably just another ploy so the soldiers can come and control us.”

The girl’s face fell. She looked back at the soldier and Frank again. Frank was now speaking rapidly. The soldier occasionally looked in their direction, eyes narrowed. She adjusted her hat to cover her face more and turned her back on them.

“Well, thank you for your help, Madam. Have a nice afternoon.” She quickly said before briskly walking away.

“Oh…” The woman stared confusedly after the departing girl. She turned to Frank and the soldier. The soldier was still a bit drunk, but he appeared to have sobered up a little at whatever Frank told him. He stumbled forward in the direction of the girl.

“Hey!” he shouted after her. She continued to walk, picking up her pace. “Hey, you! In the hat!” A small group of royal guardsmen exited the bar then, their comrade’s yells drawing their attention. The soldier turned to them and pointed down the street. “Catch that girl! Now!”

Marinette broke into a sprint and tore into an alleyway, shouts and footsteps sounding after her. She came out into the neighboring street. She quickly and carefully weaved through shoppers and merchants, ducking into another alleyway on the other side of the road. She cringed when she heard thuds and screams as the soldiers followed in her wake, not at all considerate of the people in the path between them and their prey. Marinette continued to run.

It was such a stupid mistake. She’d grown impatient and wasn’t as subtle as she could have been, but who could blame her? This was, what, the eleventh town she visited? She always tried to get the merchants to bring up the subject of the revolution first so as to not be suspicious, but that was easier said than done. She was wrong in assuming most of the villagers would warn her of the rumors spreading about each of the towns; the old woman she just spoke to was the first.

Frank had annoyed her to say the least, and that mixed with her impatience and frustration led to her outright interrogating him about the revolution. With the way he immediately started babbling, she thought maybe he had some information, but she was wrong. All he did was complain about how the rumors weren’t true and how much he suffered under the abuse of the soldiers. She should have known he would rat her out to save his own skin. Asshole.

Marinette felt slightly relieved when the footsteps behind her subsided. She continued moving quickly and weaved through the streets unnoticed. She backtracked a bit and slowed down in an alley to catch her breath. She pulled the sunhat off and dropped it to the ground, closing her eyes and suppressing the building frustration in the pit of her stomach.

Another town. Another bust.

She’d been doing this for a month, and she was still exactly where she started. If anything, she took a few steps back; the soldiers were after her now, so leaving this town just got ten times more difficult. She prayed once she did get out, they would just forget about her. Hopefully this blip wouldn’t pose a problem in the future.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed a door directly to her left. She turned to look at it, then she began observing the building. It looked pretty rundown, so maybe it was empty. She could really use somewhere to hide out for the time being. Marinette approached the door and reached out for the handle before realizing there wasn’t one. Her eyebrows furrowed. She scanned the whole door but found nothing but smooth wood. She frowned and looked up and down the alley; there were no other doors.

_Huh, strange._

Now that she thought about it, maybe this was one of the buildings for sale that the merchant lady mentioned. Does that mean she’s on the south side of town? Damn, she ran far. Marinette turned and leaned her back against the door, closing her eyes again.

She knew this would be difficult. Why wouldn’t it be? If the revolution had managed to keep themselves hidden from the royal guards, then of course they could keep themselves hidden from wandering travelers like her. She thought she was onto something back in Versailles, but it turned out to be a bust, as usual.

She’d almost given up so many times already, but then she would have a nightmare about Emilie and Adrien and her determination would renew instantly. Emilie was so cruelly killed, and Adrien could be suffering at this very moment. She couldn’t let her own hardships get in the way of finding him. She didn’t care how long it took; she would find the army and find Adrien, whether it be in five days or five years.

Her eyes suddenly snapped open. Loud and heavy footsteps sounded to her left at the end of the alleyway. She cursed under her breath and turned to run in the opposite direction, but she stopped short. Shouting came from the right side of the alley as well. Her heart hammered in her chest as panic set in. She searched around her rapidly, looking for anything she could use to hide herself from view.

Nothing.

_No. This can’t be happening. Not now._

She stood frozen as her mind raced, but she only came up with blanks. The shadows of the soldiers appeared at either end of the alley. All she could do was look back and forth, her hands shaking as adrenaline coursed through her.

If they caught her, she would surely be executed. Her parents would be executed. This can’t be happening. This can't-

The door behind her opened and she was roughly tugged backward. A hand muffled her shout of surprise as the door closed, leaving them in complete darkness. The person softly shushed her. They both listened intently to the distant sound of soldiers passing by. The footsteps and shouts soon faded into silence, and after a few long seconds, the hand slowly lowered from Marinette’s mouth.

She immediately whipped around and pressed her back into the door. “Who are you?” She couldn’t see anything. Her hands felt around the door, still not finding a handle.

She heard a small chuckle. “Relax, girl. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Marinette was mildly surprised to hear a woman’s voice. She stayed silent.

A sigh. “Let’s get some light in here, shall we?” There were footsteps and then the illumination of a lighter. The woman lit a gas lamp on a table in the center of the room before proceeding to light various candles in holders on the walls. Marinette took her eyes off the woman for just a moment to observe her surroundings. The room was very small and cozy, with bookshelves and small side tables lining the edges. Her eyes flicked back to the woman when she finally turned to face her.

Her eyes and hair were both brown. No, her hair was red. Maybe. It was too dark to tell. A pair of glasses sat perched on her nose. She crossed her arms in front of her. “That was a close one,” she commented with a small smirk.

Marinette stared blankly. “Who are you?” she repeated.

The woman contemplated the question for a moment before answering. “Rena Rouge.”

“That sounds fake.”

“That’s because it is.” Her smirk grew into a grin. ‘Rena Rouge’ turned and made her way over to the table, pulling up two chairs. “You can sit if you’d like. I bet you’re pretty exhausted after all that running.” She sat down in one of the chairs and placed her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, still smiling at Marinette. When Marinette didn’t move, she silently motioned with her eyes to the chair across from her.

Marinette was beyond confused right now. Somehow, this woman knew she was being chased, and for some reason, helped her escape. Sure, maybe she saw the commotion outside and put two and two together, even though most of it happened on the opposite side of town. That could have been it, she was just being a good samaritan, but Marinette had a feeling there was more to this ‘Rena Rouge’ than just that. Not everyone lurks in dark alleyway rooms, and not everyone has strange pseudonyms at the ready. 

But… she didn’t seem dangerous. She obviously wasn’t with the royal guards. If anything, she seemed to be the complete opposite of those hot-tempered drunkards, but did that mean she was trustworthy? No, not yet, but the woman _did_ save her. She seemed to want to talk for some reason; Marinette could do that, right? There wasn’t any harm in that. If anything got sketchy, she’d find a way to escape.

Please. It was already sketchy as hell.

Marinette waited a moment longer before slowly leaning away from the door. She eyed Rena Rouge suspiciously as she made her way over and lowered herself into the rickety wooden chair.

Neither spoke for a few seconds.

“So, what brings you to town?” Rena Rouge asked.

Marinette didn’t hesitate, the practiced words flowing freely despite her mind still trying to figure out what the heck was going on. “I’m looking for a building. My parents want to expand their business.”

Rena Rouge raised her eyebrows. “Really? Any luck?”

Marinette shook her head, not breaking eye contact. “Doesn’t look like it.”

Rena Rouge tilted her head to the side. “Strange. You got plenty of offers in Versailles.”

Marinette froze. _How did she know that?_ Versailles was five towns ago. Rena Rouge continued to smile. Marinette grew unnerved.

“Are you… following me?”

Rena Rouge shook her head. “No, but I think we’re following the same path, so we keep ending up at the same places.”

That peaked Marinette’s interest. “The same path,” she echoed.

“You’re searching for the revolution, right?” Rena Rouge asked casually. Marinette was shocked by how blunt she was. Nearly every person she’d encountered so far wouldn’t speak of the revolution out loud, and if they did, it was only in a whisper. Rena Rouge’s pleasant expression didn’t falter at all.

Marinette opened her mouth and closed it. She tried again, stuttering and stumbling as she kept starting her sentences over. She finally landed on, “Are _you_?”

Rena Rouge nodded her head side to side in a so-so gesture. “Yes and no.” She lifted her head from her palm and leaned forward. “But I need you to answer my question.” When Marinette didn’t respond, she let out a small sigh. “Look, I know you don’t trust me right now, but I’m trying to gauge if I can trust you. You have questions, right? I have answers. I just need to know what your intentions are before I can move forward.”

Marinette broke the eye contact and stared down at the table, biting her lip. She didn’t dare hope, not yet. She tried to come up with as many different possibilities as she could to explain away what Rena Rouge was saying, but they all lead back to one conclusion. No, that can’t be. There’s no way she’s that lucky. 

Could this woman actually be from the revolution?

Her hand subconsciously tightened around the strap of her bag, in which was a pair of ruby red earrings: her lucky charm.

Maybe. Just maybe...

Marinette arrived at another conclusion. She ditched all subtly and decided to take her chances. She looked back up with determination. “Yes, I’m looking for the revolution. I want to join.”

Rena Rouge beamed. “I think I can help with that.”

* * *

Marinette cursed under her breath as she hit another bump and was jostled around again.

“Sorry.” Rena Rouge muttered under her breath.

Marinette was currently curled up under a sheet in a pull along wagon, surrounded by various items in order to make her look less suspicious.

Marinette was still trying to wrap her mind around everything. Not an hour ago she stood in an alleyway losing all hope again. Now, she was being smuggled out of town by a recruiter for the revolutionary army. Occasionally she heard a group of soldiers pass, too distracted by the prospect of catching a possible revolutionary to notice them.

Marinette had so much to ask, but Rena Rouge insisted she ask everything once they were safely out of town and on the road. Of course, all this did was give her time to crowd her mind with more and more questions.

Soon the chattering sound of the streets faded away, replaced by the sound of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves. Marinette was slightly apprehensive about being dragged into the woods by an unknown woman, but for some reason, she found herself trusting Rena Rouge. If what she said was true, Rena Rouge was taking a much bigger risk than Marinette was, possibly risking the revolution. If what she said wasn’t true...

“Alright, girl, I think we’re good now.”

Marinette felt Rena Rouge untuck the sheet from around her. She sat up and stretched her arms, her muscles aching from being held in such an uncomfortable position for so long. She blinked a few times to clear her bleary eyes and looked around.

They were on a small path in the middle of the forest. The trees overhead were tall, but spaced enough that the sun could shine through. Rena Rouge offered a hand and helped Marinette out of the wagon.

“Well, if you were planning to kill me, now would be your best chance.” Marinette said as she swung her bag over her shoulder.

Rena Rouge laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty more opportunities later.” Her smile assured that she was joking, and Marinette found herself laughing too. She was feeling more and more comfortable with her now.

Rena Rouge stepped up to the wagon and pulled out her own bag. “Right, so,” she turned around, “are you up for some walking?”

“Sure. How far are we going?” Marinette watched as Rena Rouge dragged the wagon to the side of the path and positioned it behind a tree.

“A few miles.” She came back to the path and the two began walking. “You’re lucky though. That town is probably the closest one to where we’re headed.”

“And where are we headed?”

Rena Rouge turned to meet Marinette’s eyes. “The Revolutionary Army’s base.”

Marinette got goosebumps. She already knew that, but hearing it said out loud made everything seem more real. She was actually going there, to the revolution. 

Marinette suppressed the building hope inside her. _No, this woman could be lying still. Don’t get carried away..._

Marinette looked back at the path in front of her. Maybe she could ask a few questions now. They were _hypothetical_ questions, of course, since this woman was probably lying… “So, you’ve been seeing me around since Versailles, right?”

“Yup.”

“Then that means the rumors are true. I only visited those towns because there were rumors about the revolution being stationed there.”

“Yup.” Rena Rouge seemed completely at ease.

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. “Isn’t that bad, though?”

“Why is that bad?”

“Well, because it means the royal guard is onto you guys, if they’ve been right about every town they suspect is connected to the revolution.”

Rena Rouge chuckled a little. “Do you know how I choose what towns to scout in?” she asked suddenly.

Marinette shook her head.

“I only choose the towns under speculation. People who really want to join ‒people like you‒ they’re going to follow the rumors to see if they’re true. The revolution has to remain in secret, so no real information about us ever gets leaked out; the only things people hear are whatever the royals are spewing. The best way we can find new recruits is if we follow them, and they’re following the royal bullshit. The royal guard thinks they’re scaring us away from different locations, but they’re actually creating hotspots for us to find newcomers.”

Marinette thought for a moment. That’s actually… kind of smart. “But… isn’t that dangerous? What if you get caught?”

Rena Rouge shrugged. “It’s risky, but it’s worth it. We have to stay hidden from the royals, but somehow make it possible for the people to find us if they want. It’s a crazy idea, and honestly, if anyone else had proposed it, I would’ve said no.”

“Who proposed it?”

“Chat Noir.”

Marinette felt another wave of goosebumps. _Chat Noir_ . She’d been seeing news stories and posters about him for five years, never more than a rehashing of the prison break or speculations about him leading a revolution. He was so elusive that after a while, everyone began viewing him like a myth or a legend. Hearing someone talk about him ‒someone who’s probably _met_ him‒ like he was a person and not some fairytale, it felt surreal.

“So, then, you know Chat Noir?” Marinette asked casually.

Rena Rouge nodded. “He’s my boss, even though he sure as hell doesn’t act like one.”

 _What does that mean?_ Marinette was about to voice that thought, but Rena Rouge changed the subject.

“Anyways, I should probably brief you on a few things.” She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder and held her hands out in front of her. “First things first, the layout.” She motioned near the bottom of an imaginary blueprint. “The South Training Ground is for the newbies.” She moved her hands up and to either side. “The East and West Training Grounds are where you graduate to after completing basic training.” Her hands went to the top. “The North Training Ground is for the special units and the higher ranking soldiers.” 

She motioned to the middle. “The center is where the families stay. Most of the soldiers can’t leave their families behind without putting them in danger, so we bring them to come and help farm food for the army. In the case of an attack, they’ll be protected by our troops on all sides; they’re in the safest location possible.

“We also have a bit of a theme in the army.”

That peaked Marinette’s interest.

“A theme?”

She nodded. “We all wear masks, or face paint, or veils, or whatever else you can think of to hide your face. We also go by pseudonyms of our choosing. Typically, they’re animal related; you can blame a certain black cat for that. The point is to keep the soldiers’ identities safe in the event that we get infiltrated. Not everyone brought their families, so we need to ensure that their participation in the revolution doesn’t backfire on them and hurt the people they care about.”

 _Damn._ Marinette was impressed. No wonder nobody has heard a word on the revolution; they’re seriously well prepared.

“Now, I have a question for you.”

Marinette raised her head to look at Rena Rouge. “What is it?”

“What part of the army do you want to join? Do you want to help out with farming? Recruiting? Or are you looking to join the military side of it?”

Marinette paused. She’d gone forward thinking that the army was just the army; she didn’t realize there were different sections she could choose from. She figured she would have a military role, but now that she thought about it, would she be allowed? Women typically worked behind the scenes helping out the soldiers, but she wanted to _be_ a soldier. Could she even do that?

Rena Rouge seemed to read her thoughts. “I’ll warn you that it won’t be easy. You’re actually the first girl I’ve recruited that wasn’t tagging along as family. I know one of the troop leaders, and he can help sneak you in, but you have to pretend you’re not a girl.”

Marinette frowned. “So women aren’t allowed to fight?”

Rena Rouge let out a sigh. “They are, it’s just that the soldiers in there won’t treat you equally if they know you’re a woman. You’re basically competing in a man’s sport, and if they know you’re not a man, most of them won’t take you seriously. It’ll be much less difficult for you if you hide it, which in itself will be tricky. You’re also already at a disadvantage since most of these guys have worked hard labor jobs their whole lives, so they’re pretty in shape. You’ll have to work extra hard to keep up with them.”

Marinette wasn’t _out of shape,_ but she most definitely wasn’t fit either. Sure, she was used to carrying thirty pound flour bags and might have a bit of upper body strength, but she also grew up in a bakery, where sweets and pastries were easily accessible for her to munch on at any time. 

Marinette felt apprehensive about the additional things she’d have to do in order to blend in, but she wasn’t deterred. She came this far and already faced many obstacles. This was nothing.

She took a deep breath and gave a curt nod. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Rena Rouge seemed slightly surprised. “Wow, really?” She whistled. “You’re committed. I respect that.”

They walked for a while after that. There wasn’t much else for Rena Rouge to tell her, as the girl insisted Marinette would learn plenty when she got there. After an hour or so, Rena Rouge began straying off the path.

She turned back to Marinette. “We go off road from here.” She moved to continue walking, but Marinette stopped her.

“Wait, Rena Rouge.” She turned and gave Marinette a questioning look. Marinette was silent for a moment before voicing something she’d been wondering since she met this woman. “Why do you trust me?”

Rena Rouge thought it over for several seconds. “Because you didn’t trust me.” Marinette tilted her head to the side. She continued. “Most people I recruit are too eager and overly trusting. The fact that you’re still wary of me, even after I told you about the revolution, tells me that this is important to you, enough so that you’re cautious despite this being exactly what you’ve been looking for.” She offered a smile. “You’ll make a good soldier.”

Rena Rouge turned and continued walking into the woods. “And by the way,” she added, turning again, “you can call me Alya.”

Marinette blinked a couple of times before grinning. “I’m Marinette.”

* * *

Marinette’s feet were killing her. They’d been navigating through fallen trees and thickening brush for hours now. The farther they went, the closer the trees got, allowing less and less light to shine through the leaves above them. Alya artfully weaved her way through the twigs and logs as though she’d walked through here a thousand times, which was probably true. Marinette, on the other hand, kept catching her pants on thorns and had many baby cuts covering her ankles and calves.

“You guys are-,” Marinette stumbled and nearly face planted into a bush, “really far out here.”

“We have to be.” Alya called over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re nearly there.”

“You said that three hours ago.” Marinette mumbled.

They continued to walk. The woods got so dense, it became impossible to see ten feet in front of them. They trekked on for another twenty minutes before Alya stopped short.

“What is it?” Marinette asked, worried something was wrong.

Alya looked back at her. “Do you hear that?” She was grinning.

Marinette glanced around, listening intently. She heard the leaves rustling overhead. Birds chirping. Buzzing insects. Distant chatter. Marching…

Wait.

Marinette’s eyes blew wide. “Are we…”

Alya’s grin grew impossibly wider. “We are.” They walked for another few minutes, the darkness around them slowly lifting. The marching grew louder. 

_No way._ Marinette continued to suppress the hope that was fighting to stay alive inside her.

Daylight filtered between one last layer of trees before them. Alya sidestepped a humongous oak and beamed at what she saw behind it. She turned back to Marinette. She motioned with her head, indicating the space in front of her. “Wanna come see?”

Marinette’s heart beat rapidly in her chest. This was it. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. Slowly, she made her way over to the side of the tree. She glanced at Alya, who gave her an encouraging smile. 

_It’s not real._

_Don’t let yourself hope._

Marinette stepped forward.

Her mouth fell open.

Before them was an incredibly large field. Hundreds of tents were strewn across one half, the other an open space filled with people. _So many people._ A group of men had formed a circle around a duo sparring. A troop was practicing their marching, the yells of their troop leader echoing in the field. Another troop jogged past them as they made their way around the perimeter. By the tents, men sat and chatted with one another as they carved random shapes into blocks of wood. All of them had some form of mask or paint on their face.

Marinette couldn’t help herself.

She started laughing.

She laughed as her eyes raked over the sight before her. The sheer number of people she saw was astonishing. This many people had gathered here, ready to fight and bring their lives back, the lives of their entire country.

The spark of hope inside her exploded into a bursting flame. This was it. _This was it. Dear God, it exists._ Here it was, right in front of her.

The revolution.


	7. Ladybug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally wrote this instead of studying for my Physics exam. Oh well.  
> Enjoy ;)

“If you keep your mouth open like that, you might catch a fly.”

Alya’s comment went unnoticed; Marinette continued to gape as she stared in amazement at her surroundings. They were currently walking the width of the training ground on a wide dirt path, which split the field down the middle.

To her right were hundreds of canvas tents. Dirt paths similar to the one they walked on weaved between clusters of them. A few trees and bushes were scattered around, along with the occasional fire pit or patch of grass where soldiers relaxed and talked.

To her left was a wide, open space, where most of the soldiers were currently training. Tall posts stood along the treeline on the far end of the field, and clumps of tree stumps were strewn in front of them. The rest of the open space was being used for combat training, both with weapons and fists.

When they reached the sideline, Marinette turned around to view the field as a whole again. Alya watched her, amused.

“Which training grounds are these?” Marinette asked absentmindedly.

“The South. This is where you’ll stay for a while.” Alya smirked as she added, “And it’s also the smallest of the training grounds.”

Marinette turned wide eyes over to her. “The smallest?!”  _ Holy- _

Marinette was overwhelmed. All of this was just…  _ incredible. _ There were hundreds of soldiers and dozens of experienced troop leaders right in front of her, and this was only  _ a fourth _ of it all. The tents, the weapons, the fighting and training methods,  _ where did they get all of it?  _ All these years they were growing and building  _ this _ , while the people and the royals remained none the wiser. Marinette’s mind buzzed as she went back through the last five years, imagining every moment of pain and hopelessness and letting it dissolve away.  _ This was real.  _ This was all the hope she needed.

Alya laughed. “Alright girl, I’m serious. Close your mouth. I’m genuinely concerned something’s gonna fly in there.”

Marinette clamped her mouth shut, but when her eyes trailed over the training grounds again, it slowly opened.

Alya rolled her eyes. “Come on, you’ll have plenty of time to gawk later. We need to get you set up to join.” She grabbed Marinette’s arm and pulled her into the forest. Marinette peered over her shoulder for one last glimpse before the field disappeared behind the treeline.

She turned her attention forward and noticed they were walking on a well-worn path in the dirt. “Where are we headed now?”

“The Center Compound. It’s right up ahead here, and you should probably prepare yourself. Personally, this area is my favorite.”

They reached the clearing, and once again, Marinette was astounded. This area was more of a square than a rectangle, but it was still massive. Various different crops grew in the space before them: corn, rice, potatoes, wheat, beans, and probably more that she couldn’t see from here. Acres upon acres of farmland spread the expanse of the clearing, and in the center was a village. The houses were tightly packed together, and the structures appeared to be more permanent than the tents set up at the training grounds. In the distance, Marinette saw more buildings a small ways from the village: stables.

Her mouth was open again, and she was speechless. This was an entire  _ world _ that she hadn’t known existed, that France didn’t know existed. She vaguely registered Alya grabbing her arm again and leading her down the dirt path between the crops. She turned her head in every direction, trying to take it all in even though her mind was dangerously close to short circuiting. 

The chatter from ahead drew Marinette’s attention towards the village. As they got closer, more and more people became visible. Some were working in the fields next to them while others walked between buildings carrying baskets of food or piles of laundry to nearby clotheslines. Everyone seemed to have a job they were doing.

The people warmly greeted Marinette and Alya as they entered the village, Alya responding for the both of them as Marinette was still incapable of forming a coherent thought. They passed kids, parents, grandparents, soldiers, farmers, people of all ages and occupations. The village vaguely reminded Marinette of her own, mainly because of the arrangement and style of the buildings, but she caught sight of one building that made her stop dead in her tracks.

It looked exactly like the bakery. Almost. Unlike the bakery’s carefully built structure, this one appeared a bit rushed, and instead of being made of bricks and clay, this one was made of wood. The layout and design, the slightly curved front that was unique to the bakery, was exactly the same.

Alya stopped too. “Marinette?” she asked.

Marinette lifted a finger and pointed. “That building.” Alya turned to look at it.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It-” She paused for a moment to get her thoughts together. “Who built it?”

Alya shrugged. “Dunno. It was here when I joined, and I’m pretty sure it’s been here since the beginning. That’s where some of the royal soldiers stay.”

That drew Marinette’s attention immediately. Her eyes flicked to Alya. “What? Royal soldiers?”

“The retired ones. The ones that Chat Noir broke out of the prison five years ago. Most of the escapees are serving in the army right now, but a few of them just can’t anymore, physically and mentally, so they stay there.” She vaguely motioned at the building.

Marinette zoned out again. The prison break. That was her key to finding out what happened to Adrien. If he was still alive ‒no, he  _ is  _ still alive‒ then he’d be kept in the prison. They might know something about him, maybe whether or not he’s still there. She needed to talk to them.

Alya continued on, oblivious to Marinette’s racing mind. “Anyway, this way girl. I didn’t realize how late it was, so you can stay at my place tonight. Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to Nino.”

Marinette looked over to her left. She couldn’t see the sun behind the building next to her, but the pinks and purples in the sky above it told her it was setting. Marinette nodded and let Alya drag her past the bakery lookalike. She cast a fleeting glance at it before sighing to herself.

She needed to be patient. Suddenly interrogating a group of royal veterans would be suspicious, and she couldn’t risk that right after she just arrived. For now, she would establish herself here as a soldier. She figured she’d wait until she at least made it to the East and West Training Grounds before she attempted to do any digging.

As they walked, the larger buildings on either side of the path shrunk down to small, tightly packed wooden houses. Alya led her over to one of them and stopped in front of the door.

She grabbed Marinette’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “I’m gonna apologize in advance.”

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “For what?” She gave a teasing smile. “Is your house really that messy?”

Alya nodded, completely serious. “It is, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” A loud crashing sound from inside punctuated her sentence, and she let out an exasperated sigh.

Marinette looked between Alya and the door. ‘What was that?”

Alya pressed her lips into a thin line. “The Sapotis.”

Marinette didn’t have time to react before Alya wrenched open the door and stormed inside. Marinette hesitantly followed, and her eyes widened when she saw the state of the house. Tables and chairs and blankets were all stacked precariously in a pile in the center of the room, looking like a fort only halfway through construction. At the far wall, which was only about ten feet away in the small living room, two identical girls stood at either end of a couch, arguing loudly.

“I  _ told  _ you we have to put it over  _ there. _ ” The twin pushed the couch, and it moved a few inches forward.

The other twin pushed back against it, stopping the movement. “No! It has to go over  _ there. _ ”

“If we do  _ that, _ ” she shoved harder, “then the chairs will fall like that one!” Marinette’s eyes found a scattered chair off to the side of the fort.

“It only fell because the couch wasn’t there to hold it up!”

“It fell because you stacked it wrong!”

“Nuh-uh! You stacked that one!”

No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did-”

“What on Earth is going one here?!” Alya yelled over them.

Two identical faces whipped towards the door before breaking out into grins. “ _ Alya! _ ” They sprinted over, passing dangerously close to the unstable structure. Alya let out a grunt as they slammed into her at full force. She tried to keep her expression stern, but she couldn’t stop the smile that formed on her face. Alya kneeled down and wrapped her arms around the twins.

“I missed you guys.”

“We missed you too,’ the girls chorused.

Marinette watched the interaction fondly. If Alya had been on the same trail as Marinette since she was in Versailles, then it must have been at least three weeks since she saw these girls, who Marinette presumed were Alya’s sisters. Watching them elicited a small pang in her chest. She missed her parents. A lot.

Alya pulled back and looked between the girls. “Now, what in the world did you do to our living room?”

The girls smiled innocently. “It wasn’t us! It was the Sapotis!”

Marinette covered her mouth and smothered a giggle. The girls looked up at her, noticing her for the first time. Marinette lowered her hand and gave them a small wave.

“Hello, I’m Marinette.”

The girls waved back enthusiastically.

“I’m Ella.”

“I’m Etta.”

“Marinette is going to stay with us tonight, so I want you to be on your best behavior. Alright?” Alya gave them a serious look.

The girls giggled and nodded.

Alya wasn’t convinced just yet. “I’m serious. No more destroying the living room and making forts.”

“But it wasn’t us! It was the Sapotis!”

Alya huffed loudly.

Marinette laughed again. “You know, Alya, maybe it really was the Sapotis,” she teased. The girls began chattering in agreement, practically vibrating with excess energy.

Alya whipped around to face Marinette. “Don’t encourage them!”

* * *

An hour and a broken gas lamp later, the living room was rearranged again, and Marinette was able to see what the space was supposed to look like. There was a couch and an armchair squeezed into one half, while a dining table took up the other. It was cramped, but it was cozy. 

Marinette didn’t realize she was hungry until Alya brought up the subject of dinner. At the mention of food, the twins, who had calmed down a bit by their standards, fired up again.

“Didn’t you two eat dinner already?” Alya asked suspiciously.

“Nope! We’re starving!”

“Liars…”

Alya led the three of them back down the street towards a decent sized building; a small chimney sat on the roof, continuously puffing out smoke. Alya and the twins strolled in, while Marinette slowly trailed behind them, still taking time to observe her surroundings. They were in a kitchen. Sort of. Technically, they were in a small open area separated from the kitchen by a counter. Marinette figured this was a pickup zone for meals.

Her eyes were drawn to the kitchen behind the counter. In the back of her mind, something sparked with recognition. The longer she stared, the more it reminded her of her father’s kitchen in the bakery. No, it looked  _ just  _ like it, right down to the number of cupboards and ovens and their locations relative to each other. A woman near the back turned around and smiled at the group of them, making her way over.

Marinette shook her head to herself. She was overthinking things. She was probably just hyper aware of anything remotely similar to her home; first the building outside and now the kitchen in front of her. She missed her parents and the bakery, that’s all.

The woman came to stand behind the counter. “Alya! Welcome back!”

“Thanks, Maman. Late night?”

She nodded tiredly. “I don’t think I’ll be home for a few more hours. Your father had a problem with the cows today, so he’ll be a while too.” Alya’s mom eyed the girls, who were innocently resting their chins on the counter and staring up at her. “Did the twins behave themselves on their own today?”

“Of course we did!”

She gave Alya a questioning look, and Alya shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. Could we get something to eat? I’m famished.”

Alya’s mom walked back into the kitchen where she prepared a basket of fruits of vegetables. When she returned with it, Alya introduced Marinette. 

“She’s joining tomorrow, so I said she could stay with us tonight.”

“Really? Well if we’re having a guest,” she went back into the kitchen and over to a stove, “then she must eat well.” She returned holding a plate with a small slice of cooked chicken on it. 

Marinette took it gratefully. They said their goodbyes to Alya’s mom and walked back to the house, where they all sat around the table and dug into the basket. Marinette distributed sections of her chicken despite Alya’s protests, while the twins devoured everything they could get their hands on. It wasn’t long before Alya was ushering the girls into a door off the living room, presumably their bedroom. However, they didn’t go without a fight.

“We don’t wanna go to bed!”

“Oh, please. You were practically falling asleep at the table. Etta, get off the couch!”

“No! Not until you let us stay up!”

“Etta get- Ella, let  _ go! _ ”

“No!”

“I swear to god-“

As Alya argued and wrestled with her sisters, Marinette couldn’t help but marvel at how  _ domestic _ it was. Marinette had been roughly the twins’ age when the country fell apart and she was forced to grow up early, so it was bizarre to see them, in the same broken world, giggling and laughing as they ran around the living room. Without the overbearing presence of the royals, life  _ went on _ here. These girls were isolated from the rest of the world, yet they were living a better childhood than she ever could out there. She didn’t think it was possible for life to be anything similar to how it used to be, but here it was right in front of her.

When Alya finally dropped back into her seat at the table, she looked exhausted. She sighed and turned to Marinette. “Just your typical day with my sisters.”

Marinette giggled. “They seem like lots of fun.”

“Ha! Just wait until they get their hands on some paint, that’s always a blast to clean up.” Alya ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. “So, how are you?”

Marinette had no idea. She had no words to describe how much her life had changed in the last couple of hours, but she tried to find them anyway. “I’m… overwhelmed? But in a good way.” 

Alya nodded. “Understandable.”

“But, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Nobody here wears masks or anything like the soldiers do.” Alya nodded in agreement. “If the masks are to protect identities, then what’s the point of them if anyone is allowed to come through here and see the families?”

“They aren’t, actually.” Alya leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Generally, if someone brings their family with them, they’re allowed to come here and visit occasionally. If a recruit is alone, and we expect anyone who might infiltrate to be alone, then they stay at the training grounds since there’s no reason for them to be here.”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. “Then why am I allowed in here?”

Alya shrugged. “I trust you. After four years of this job, I’ve gotten good at reading people, and I know you’re trustworthy.”

Marinette’s heart warmed a bit at that.

“Speaking of identities,” Alya continued, “we need to get you one.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands together on the table, and suddenly Marinette felt like she was under interrogation. “So, what do you want your disguise to be?”

“Uhh…” Marinette was drawing a huge blank. She hadn’t really thought about that part yet.

“Here, I’ll make it simpler. Name an animal.” Alya rushed to add, “And please make it unique. I can’t tell you how many dogs I’ve gotten. And lions. And tigers.”

Marinette stared down at the table. An animal. This was easy, just think of an animal. She scoured her brain for any obscure animal she could think of, but none of them sounded appealing. 

_ Lemur? No. _

_ Hamster? Eh. _

_ Armadillo? No thank you. _

_ Hippo? Absolutely not. _

She bit her lip.  _ Why was this so hard? _ She glanced down at the bag near her feet, her eyes finding the outside pocket. _ Red. Black spots. _

“How about… Ladybug?”

Alya cocked her head to the side. “Ladybug? Are insects even animals?” She thought for a moment. “You know, I’m fine with it if you are. I’ve never heard it before, so you’ll definitely be the only one.”

Marinette nodded. “Alright, then I’ll be Ladybug.”

Alya grinned. “Well then,  _ Ladybug _ , we need to figure out a disguise for you. Particularly one that hides your non-male qualities.”

Right, she almost forgot about that. “Will I have to cut my hair really short?”

“No, I think you’ll be okay. There are enough man buns around that they won’t question another thrown in the mix. I’ve got some red face paint I can lend you to put around your eyes, and I think you should wear a cloth over your mouth just to be safe. You should wear baggy clothes too.”

They both agreed to get her disguise together in the morning when they were more refreshed. They’d had quite the long day, and neither of them felt like doing anything other than passing out on the nearest flat surface. Alya got Marinette a blanket and a pillow and set her up on the couch. They bid their goodnights, and Marinette found herself alone with her thoughts for the first time all evening.

If she wasn’t so tired, she would spend the next few hours staring at the ceiling contemplating everything that happened today. Her droopy eyes had other plans. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep for the first time without the looming task of finding the revolution hanging over her head. She was here now.

Her eyes found her backpack again, and she reached over and grabbed it, unzipping the pocket and pulling out the earrings. They glittered and glistened in the lowlight as Marinette admired them. They really  _ were _ her lucky charm, weren’t they? Somehow, everything was turning out right, and for once she felt like she was on the right track.

She spent a few more seconds holding them before she tucked them safely back into her bag and set it on the ground next to the couch. She laid down and pulled the blanket up to her chin, closing her eyes and letting out a contented sigh.

Unlike every night for the past ten years, Marinette didn’t dream of Adrien and Emilie in the rain. She didn’t dream of her father in a bloody heap on the floor of the bakery. She didn’t dream of Adrien shivering in a cold cell, all alone in the dark.

That night, Marinette dreamt of apples and orchards and pastries. She dreamt of fields and tents and marching. She dreamt of giggles and laughter and joy.

She dreamt of a kind smile, blonde hair, and startling emerald eyes.

* * *

When the twins woke up, the rest of the house did too. The morning was just as, if not more hectic as the night before, possibly because the twins were now at full energy capacity. After breakfast, Alya let Ella and Etta loose on the kids in the street and took Marinette to a supplies building. It was there that they found some red sweatshirts and tank tops and some black shorts. 

“But I’m not going to use the tank tops.” Marinette pushed them back into Alya’s hands.

Marinette didn’t want to take anything more than what she needed, and she definitely didn’t need tank tops; they were too revealing and feminine. However, Marinette was quickly learning that Alya was just as stubborn as she was.

“Maybe not in the army, but they’ll look so cute on you. You can wear them whenever you come visit me.” Alya returned them to a reluctant Marinette’s arms. “You can’t say no, they’re already yours.”

They headed back to Alya’s house to get Marinette changed, but as they were making their way past the bakery look-alike, someone opened the door and walked out. Alya slowed to a stop and smirked at them.

“Hey, stranger.”

Said stranger was tall and had short black hair. His entire outfit was dark green —his cap, his shirt, his pants, his boots, and the facepaint behind his glasses. He gave a small wave and approached them.

“Hey, it’s been a while.”

Alya crossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders. “Only a few weeks.”

He shook his head. “It was totally longer than that.”

Alya’s smirk grew. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Maybe.”

Marinette looked back and forth between the two of them, feeling increasingly awkward by the second. They were very obviously flirting with each other, and Marinette considered slipping away and heading back to the house.

Alya suddenly remembered Marinette’s presence. “Oh! Marinette, this is Nino-”

“Carapace!” he hissed.

“Oops. Right, codenames. Marinette, this is Carapace. Carapace, this is Mar-”

“Ladybug.” Marinette held out her hand, and Carapace shook it.

“Nice to meet you,  _ Ladybug. _ ” He pointedly looked at Alya, who rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.” She nodded her head at Marinette. “Here’s your new recruit.”

Nino looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yup, and you gotta pretend she’s a guy, alright? So she isn’t harassed.”

Nino lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can pretend she’s a guy, but I don’t think that’ll guarantee she isn’t harassed.”

“What do you mean?” Marinette asked.

“I was meeting with some of the other recruits earlier, the ones that’ll be in my troop, and there’s this one guy…” He let out a puff of air, looking slightly irritated at the memory. “He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, so I can’t exactly confront him. He just rubs me the wrong way, and I can tell he’s a major asshole.” Nino tried to look reassuring. “But if you stay out of his way, I think you’ll be alright.”

Marinette felt slightly apprehensive. She already had the task of collecting information that may or may not even be here, and now she also had to deal with whoever the hell this guy was on top of trying to stay unnoticed. Great.

Marinette sighed. “Right, well, we might as well get started then.” 

The three of them walked back to Alya’s house so Marinette could change and grab her things. Marinette tucked away her new clothes in her bag, letting Alya hang on to her old clothes for the time being. Fifteen minutes later, she stood in Alya’s room staring at her reflection in a mirror.

Her hair was tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, the ideal man bun. The red sweatshirt was baggy enough to cover her curves, and although the shorts were a bit more form fitting than she would have liked, they weren’t too obvious. Red grease paint covered the area around her eyes, and in her hand she held the last part of her disguise: a red and slightly see through strip of cloth. She tied it over her mouth and surveyed her completed look. 

Yeah, she looked like she could be a guy. Perfect.

She walked out into the living room where Alya and Nino were talking. Actually, they seemed to be flirting again. They were standing close together and both wore playful smiles as they spoke. Marinette watched them, amused, before stepping back into the bedroom and walking out again, this time making her footsteps much louder.

Alya turned and looked Marinette up and down. Her face broke out into a grin. “Girl! Look at you!” She came over and walked in a circle around Marinette. “Damn, this might actually work.”

“You think so?”

Alya moved to stand in front of Marinette. “Almost. You gotta fix that voice.”

Marinette opened and closed her mouth a few times, awkwardly trying to find the right octave to lower her voice to. “You think so?” she said in an over-the-top manly manner.

Alya pressed her lips together. “Maybe you just shouldn’t talk.”

Marinette grabbed her bag, and right as they were about to leave, she remembered something; she’d been writing to her parents once a week. If she suddenly went silent, they would lose their minds with worry. She voiced her concern to Alya and Nino.

Alya looked conflicted. “We try not to come and go from the compound too often, so we don’t deliver letters.” Alya thought for a moment. “Here.” She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a piece of paper and a pencil. “Write to them one more time, and I’ll make sure it gets delivered.”

Marinette thanked Alya profusely before scribbling out a short paragraph explaining that she was somewhere safe and wouldn’t be able to send anymore letters. She emphasized that they shouldn’t worry and told them she loved them. She folded up the letter and handed it to Alya, who promised to send it out as soon as possible.

Marinette felt the outside pocket of her bag and confirmed that she had her earrings. “Okay, let’s go.” 

They left the house and headed towards the South Training Grounds. Marinette waved goodbye to the twins playing soccer in the street, and she sent a lingering glance at the bakery building as they passed. When they reached the treeline, Alya stopped.

“Alright girl.” She pulled Marinette into a tight hug. “Good luck, and make sure you pester Nino so he lets you come visit.” Nino rolled his eyes.

Marinette giggled and squeezed her back. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay, and I’ll come visit when I can.”

“Take care.” They pulled apart, and Alya gave Marinette one last encouraging smile before her and Nino set off down the path. Marinette felt a bit sad separating from Alya; she was the first person she’d met and had been her guide up until now. She didn’t know Nino all that well yet, but since him and Alya seemed to get along, she figured they would too. 

Speaking of him and Alya… 

She turned to Nino. “So how long have you and Alya been dating?”

He practically choked on thin air. He coughed and spluttered until he finally managed a short, “What?”

Marinette held back a smile. “Oh, so you guys aren’t together, then?”

“Uhh…” His face was flushed and he squirmed a little. “Well, I don’t really know. We’re both working a lot, so we haven’t talked about it.”

Marinette hummed. “I see. Well, either way, I think you two look really cute together.”

He was still blushing, but he offered a smile. “Thanks, Marinette.”

They walked in silence for a minute or so before she spoke again.

“Are all the other recruits there already?”

Nino nodded. “They’ve been waiting around for a few days because we’re short on people in the troop. I was going to start training today anyway, but adding you in won’t be a problem.”

Great, so her troop had all gotten to know each other already, and Marinette would be the outsider. Lovely.

The South Training Ground came into view again, and Marinette felt a flutter in her stomach. She wasn’t sure how she was going to pull this off; her main concerns were her voice and lack of muscle mass, which might put her at a huge disadvantage during strength training. Her nervousness grew tenfold as they entered the labyrinth of tents, drawing sparing glances from passing soldiers. Marinette took a few deep breaths to calm the swarm in her stomach, but she wasn’t very successful.

They reached a patch of grass with a cluster of tents on it, and Nino led her to the one closest to them. He pulled back the canvas and stuck his head inside.

“Hey, you guys have a new roommate, so be nice. We’re training today, so I want all of you out on the field in twenty. Got it?”

Marinette heard a chorus of mumbled agreement.

Nino clicked his tongue. “That won’t do. I need a ‘Yes Sir,’ and speak up. We don’t mumble here. Got it?”

“Yes Sir!”

“That’s better.” Nino turned to face Marinette, motioning to the tent. “Get settled, and I’ll see you out on the field.” He patted her shoulder and whispered, “I’m sorry, good luck,” before heading off in the direction of the training ground.

Marinette watched him go, slightly confused, before she schooled her expression and ducked into the tent.

The space was roughly the size of Alya’s living room. In each corner was a bed—if blankets stuffed with hay counted as beds—and they were arranged so one was pressed along the length of each wall. Three guys lounged on the beds, and they all looked in her direction as she entered.

Not wanting to speak, Marinette lifted her hand in a casual wave and stepped towards her bed. Of course, the only bed left was the one by the entrance; she couldn’t wait to feel the draft at night. She expected her roommates to be a bit more friendly, but they weren’t. They didn’t do anything more than stare at her, and although in any other circumstances she would be put off, she was silently grateful for the opportunity to escape having to speak.

She crouched down next to her ‘mattress’ and shuffled around in her bag. She wasn’t particularly looking for anything, but it made her feel less awkward to have something to do. She had just reached her tank tops at the bottom of her bag when one of the guys began talking.

He scoffed. “Can you believe this?” Marinette saw him motion towards her in her peripheral. The others said nothing, but he continued on. “They’re really letting just about anybody in here, aren’t they?”

Marinette clenched her jaw and continued her pretend bag search. Her luck must have run out because she had a feeling this was the asshole Nino warned her about, and of course, he was now her roommate. Nino’s apology was making sense now.

“Hey, runt.”

She had hoped her height wouldn’t pose a problem, but she was wrong. Marinette didn’t let the nickname affect her, and she continued on as if he’d said nothing. Ten years of experience with the royal guard made her good at biting her tongue.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Marinette closed her eyes and sighed before turning her head to look at him.

He smirked condescendingly. “I think you’re in the wrong place. This ain’t the playground.” He chuckled and appeared way too proud of his quip, which was subpar at best. She quirked an unimpressed eyebrow before turning back to her bag. She could already tell this guy would be the bane of her existence for the next few weeks.

She noticed a pair of gloves tucked in an inside pocket and grabbed them, slipping them on. The asshole looked as if he was about to start talking again, so Marinette stood and slipped out of the tent before he got the chance. She wandered over to a fire pit in an open area nearby and sat down on one of the tree stumps surrounding it. She rested her elbows on her knees.

_ Here we go. _

She closed her eyes and recapped all that she needed to do. First things first, she needed to feel this place out a bit. Even though she was already friendly with a couple of the army members, that didn’t mean she could trust them all. In particular, she couldn’t trust Chat Noir. He was leading the revolution and ultimately decided their course of action, and she still didn’t know his motive. In a perfect world, Chat Noir would be working with Adrien to take down the Fake King and restore Adrien to the throne, but Marinette knew that was probably far from the truth.

Chat Noir most likely expected to take the throne himself, but she wouldn’t let that happen. Once she established herself here, she would try to talk to the retired soldiers and see if they saw anything that hinted at where Adrien could be. If she was lucky, she might manage to get a message to Chat Noir and hear what he has to say, although he might not tell the truth.

She placed her head in her hands. She had absolutely no idea how all of this would play out, but she hoped beyond hope that everything would be okay. She’d find Adrien, they’d take down the Fake King, and her country would be able to breathe again. For now, though, she needed to focus on keeping her cover here as a soldier. The butterflies in her stomach flared again as she heard her fellow troop members exiting their tents.

Right, training.

She straightened up and rolled her shoulders.

_ Alright, Ladybug, let’s do this. _

Marinette stood, back straight and face set, before she headed towards the training ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters just keep getting longer and longer and I don't know how.


End file.
